


Play Something Nice

by Blacklace



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Clint is obviously the martyr, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff, Getting Together, Groping, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Pietro is the oblivious one, You Have Been Warned, clintpietro, confused feelings, hawksilver - Freeform, it will turn real hot in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacklace/pseuds/Blacklace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The melody grows louder with every step he takes. It seems like somebody is playing the piano in the living room. But from this distance Pietro can’t really tell.</p><p>Or the one where Clint gets drunk and it sets things in motion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, after all this time I haven't published anything, here I go again. And I will go down with this god damn ship!
> 
> Also please note this work isn't beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. I tried to weed them out, but it's still possible there are some left, so be patient with me, thank you :)

The melody grows louder with every step he takes.

It seems like somebody is playing the piano in the living room. But from this distance Pietro can’t really tell. There might just as well be someone watching live orchestra for all he knows. People did weird shit at night, especially in the new Avengers Headquarters.

The tune is somehow familiar to Pietro. He knows it. The notes sound welcoming, whispering in foreign voices. Wrapping rope of his own curiosity around him and dragging him closer.

It’s two in the morning and Pietro would rather aimlessly walk in circles than try to sleep. He’d already tried today. Score: nightmares one, Pietro zero. He wishes he could blame it on that damn Italian coffee Tony brought from his latest trip to Milano. That shit is pretty hard to burn off even with Pietro’s fast metabolism. And while he surely enjoyed the taste of it, he couldn’t blame the drink on his nightmares.

Ever since Sokovia Pietro could barely sleep. Not that there were any sweet dreams before, to begin with. But it only seems so much worse now, after the near death experience. Eventually, the darkness was all that really mattered at night. It was the bitter taste of black on his tongue that he became addicted to and that he ached for. The emptiness became his companion on many of the nights these days. Pietro was concern with his own sanity and health. There was only so much his enhanced organism could take before collapsing. And he knew he was pushing his luck.

Some things helped with the sleepless nights, he found out. Like regular trainings or staying in the light. He would often fall asleep on the couch in the common area with the TV turned on. The white noise and faint light helped to lull him every time. He wouldn’t get exactly nice dreams, but they were manageable, at least.

Pietro had been already tired when he tried to sleep earlier that day. After he woke up drenched in sweat, he gave it up. He took a quick shower and put on clean, comfortable clothes. A little too big short-sleeved white cotton t-shirt, black boxers and pair of well-worn grey sweats.

In hopes of getting better sleep in the living room, he closed the door to his room and started walking. That was when he noticed the faint melody.

The long corridors leading to the common area were illuminated only by the fire escape signs. They casted unnatural green light over every shiny surface they could reach. Pietro never turned the lights on during his regular night journeys. Turning the lights on might just attract attention of somebody on the night shift. And while Pietro usually loved company of other people, he rarely felt like meeting other humans in the middle of the night.

So Pietro, like a stray cat, preferred to be left alone at night.

As he walked through the building, he wondered who it might be awake this late at night. He had seen the lights on at Tony’s laboratory plenty times. But then again, sleep did not fuck around with Tony Stark. Pietro could never understand how Tony managed to sleep so little every day. But there was probably a good reason for it. Pietro thought that the man had probably his own nightmares that kept him awake and that is why he’s always engrossed in some pet project of his.

Pietro stops thinking about the billionaire when the tune that was playing changes.

It changes to one that is thick like honey and sparkling like mist in the morning sun. Yet it is so infuriating. Infused with all the sorrow world had ever seen.

Pietro’s steps falter a little. He knew he was probably prying on someone right now. But he couldn’t help it.

The melody. _It sounds so strange, but I know it._

Pietro came to the conclusion that someone was playing the piano Tony bought for whatever reason. There was no way that their TV had such a good sound system.

Pietro didn’t understand why Tony insisted on giving the place a piano. He was pretty sure Tony would smash it at the next party he’d get drunk at. When Pietro asked, what’s up with the fancy instrument, Tony answered with “This place clearly needs some piano. Every classy living room has one, right cap?” he had looked at Steve, who just rubbed his neck, shrugging. When the captain wouldn’t give a direct response, Stark continued. “Besides, quite a lot of people here know how to play this thing, so I’m sure they will be the ones appreciating it.”

Pietro still hadn’t figured out who could exactly play the instrument. But weirdly so, he caught a glimpse of Steve and Tony sitting behind it one time. He was running too fast to be sure they were actually playing it, but it was probably enough evidence on his part.

Over the past week, of all the times Pietro couldn’t sleep and decided to nestle in the common area, there was never a living soul sitting behind the piano and playing it. So why now? Who would play these depressing tunes in the middle of the night when everyone was supposed to be asleep?

Pietro was curious and it grew worse with every passing second. The melody was getting under his skin. Crawling and sinking in like autumn dampness. He was extra careful with his steps. Even when he was barefoot, he knew he could still make noises.

Luck is on his side tonight, though. The way he chose will lead him to the common area so the person playing the piano won’t see him coming. There was something unnerving about the song that is now being played. Every new note is like nails scraping the chalkboard. It gives the worst kind of chills that bite down at his nerves. There are tiny needles poking inside his head and it makes his vision blur.

Pietro notices his breathing is short and elaborated. Not trusting his weak knees, he leans his back against the nearest wall to support his weight. There is nothing but black in front of his eyes as he slumps down to the floor. It feels like there’s a huge rock on his chest, squeezing his heart and making it even harder to breathe. He panics, thinking he’s going to suffocate or pass out from the lack of oxygen in his blood. His head is spinning so fast that it makes him nauseous. With the last bits of his strength he topples to the side and stays there on the cold ground.

Yes, he knows that tune.

It played at his parents’ burial ceremony. Chopin’s fucking Funeral March.

The lack of breath and scorching tears are nothing in comparison with the physical pain the music causes him to feel. It brings back some of the worst memories Pietro had been pushing back in his mind. For years he lived off of the rage he had for Stark. That man who made him and Wanda orphans. Years passed and Pietro got used to it. Every time he speaks up about his past, it hurts.

But the real nightmares… those he keeps in.

He’s silently pleading for it to stop. The flashbacks of his parents dismembered bodies, all the blood and pain he pushed so far away. He runs his hands through his hair in desperation, pulling hard so it would sting. Anything, anything to stop the music. He needs the pain to remind him of how alive he is. That all this shit going through his head isn’t real. _It’s long gone, Pietro, forget it._

Finally, the melody comes to a stop and the boy can breathe again. A new tune starts to play, but Pietro is too occupied to notice.

He’s lying on the hard floor, eyes closed. He concentrates on his breathing, slowly counts to three with every inhale and exhale until he feels his pulse and breathing coming back to normal. He’s surprised that the other person hasn’t discovered him yet. It took Pietro solid ten minutes to push everything back. He had chased every single one of those painful memories and locked them back up. The lock he placed upon them is worn with time, tired and weakened by corrosion. It would break, eventually. And Pietro knew it was only a matter of time when.

He wanted to get up and head back for his bedroom. Too disgusted to try to find out who was the player. He felt like this, too, was perhaps a private moment for that person. There’s no chance that any of the Avengers would play funeral music for fun. In two in the morning.

It was the sloppiness in the way the keys were being pressed, that caught Pietro’s attention. Almost as if the person didn’t know the notes or couldn’t concentrate enough.

He hears them stop playing. It’s followed by clinking of glass and the sound of pouring liquid. Presumably some kind of alcohol.

Within seconds, the music plays again. Even though Pietro doesn’t recognize that song, he can hear the clear mistakes and slopes. There’s a heavy feeling of guilt in his stomach for listening in. Whoever it is playing the piano, they probably want to be left alone. Pietro is ashamed for being a witness to it. He would hate it himself if there was anyone following him on his night walks. But after all, he wasn’t the only one living in this place. It was inevitable that he would meet someone else on his night rambles.

It was the curiosity that pushed him straight forward. He was cursed ever since he was a child. With that burning need to know.

_Maybe I can help?_

Up to this day Pietro isn’t sure what he was thinking at that moment.

He rises up to his feet, his eyes already adjusted to the darkness of the place. He takes in his surroundings, skims over the large couch and over it to a small podium at the far corner of the room. A familiar shape is sitting on the cushioned bench. Pietro would recognize those shoulders and haircut anywhere. There was something specific about the way Clint moved, too. It was always so smooth and almost fluid. Pietro chalked it up to the years of training as a secret agent. Natasha moved in a similar manner. She was always so light and silent on her feet, almost like a cat, if not better.

Pietro realizes he’s staring and quickly averts his gaze. Aware that people can actually sense when someone else is watching, he already feels embarrassment creeping up his neck. He’s sure that Clint has to know someone else is in the room. Why the archer decided to stay intact, is beyond Pietro.

This whole situation, however absurd or normal, was making Pietro’s head spin. He watched the man stop playing several more times so he could take a drink from the glass that was sitting on top of the piano. From what the young boy could make out, it definitely looked like one of the fancy branded whisky.

All these times Pietro was making fun of Clint, dropping remarks and snarky comments, were eating away at him like an acid. Pietro knew that most of the Avengers were damaged in a way. But it didn’t hit him until now, that he could be making it worse all this time. Maybe not for everyone, but it slowly dawned on him, that maybe Clint isn’t as okay as he makes himself appear. Which was something that Pietro could relate to. Putting on a mask of smiles and sarcasm was something he’d done for years now. It grew on him so much that he often believed the lie. It would make him feel good, for a bit, help him survive whatever day he needed to go through. In the end, however, it was always him who would be exhausted and emotionally drained by his own foolishness. And watching Clint’s perfect façade crumble was like a mirror held out for him to see.

With Clint’s playing getting sloppier and less coordinated, Pietro found his resolve breaking. When he promised himself to turn and get back to his room, he hadn’t imagined what would go through his mind. Seeing his favorite archer like this changed any previous resolutions he might’ve had. Sometimes he hated how fast his mind worked. Throwing half-assed sentences and ideas at him, leaving him alone to figure everything out.

And Pietro figured. He wasn’t sure if it was the right solution, but at the moment it was better than just running away. _No more running away._

As for now, Pietro is sure Clint knows there’s someone else in the room. If the archer wanted to be left all alone, he would probably yell at the intruder or calmly walk away without a word. Pietro fancied the latter, but he couldn’t be sure how the man would reacted under the influence of another substance. He had never seen Clint drunk and he was maybe a little scared from the whole situation, but it felt like the right thing to do.

So with all the bravery he could muster, he quietly walks over to the archer. He stopped twice in his tracks, still going over this stupid idea in his head. He wanted to turn and run away. But that would give him away and it would probably make things extremely uncomfortable between them. No, he had to approach Clint. Try to talk to him.

When the archer attempted to play the Funeral March again, Pietro couldn’t stand it anymore.

He cut the short distance with his speed and sat next to Clint who barely flinched. He didn’t stop playing, which was unnerving for Pietro. Knowing he has to hold his composure, he put his hands gently over Clint’s to stop him.

“Hey there, old man,” _not the best one, Pietro, you’re trying to comfort him._

The young man cursed himself mentally. Clint didn’t look at him, which could be both good or bad sign. He was staring into the opposite wall instead. Pietro bit his lip and for a split second he expected Clint to leash out at him. When nothing happened the younger man put his panic aside and tried another way.

“Look, I’m sorry I walked in on you like this,” he starts in a quiet voice. “When I can’t sleep I kinda walk around this place, you know? And I heard this melody you were playing. It was familiar to me,” Pietro wanted to continue, not realizing he is still holding onto Clint’s hands. When Clint abruptly takes his hands away from underneath Pietro’s, it takes the words out of the boy’s lips. The archer reaches over to the glass of whisky and takes another sip.

It twists something in Pietro and he doesn’t know why.

All the times he had seen Stark getting drunk and he couldn’t care less. But this was different. Seeing Clint broken, with a drink in his hand did things to him. It’s the circumstances of the situation that make it so much worse, he thinks. Pietro wonders if the man couldn’t sleep, if there were nightmares haunting him and if that’s why he decided to go here and drown his problems in that fancy drink.

He hates to admit just how much he cares for the older man.

“It was the Funeral March,” Clint offers. His voice is raspy from the whisky he’s drinking. Pietro thinks that under any other circumstances it would probably sound hot.

“No, not that one,” Pietro pauses, considering the pros and cons of telling Clint how much he hates that tune. He thinks better of it and decides to skip the chick flick on his part. “I meant the one you played before. It sounded sad, but it was beautiful,” Pietro says. He doesn’t know where to look when Clint is still ignoring him. There’s that nervous energy accumulating in his body which makes him restless. He looks down at his hands and takes a deep breath in. He’s preparing for the worst when the older man speaks up.

“Oh yeah… Rachmaninoff,” Clint says those words like they are poison to him. Pietro lets it slip and doesn’t think too much of it. He’s sure there will be plenty of time to ask questions later.

He watches helplessly as Clint takes another shot of whisky, his movements visibly unsteady. Pietro pushed both the glass and bottle further away from Clint’s reach. He could smell the whisky strong on his breath, which led him to the decision that the archer has had enough. When Clint saw the drink was out of his reach, he began to play again. The only song Pietro despised so much.

This time the boy reacts quick and puts his hands gently over Clint’s once more.

“Play something nice for me?” he puts on his best charming smile. He’s not even sure it’ll work, but right now it’s his best shot.

“Something nice…” the archer turns his head and looks directly at Pietro. There is blank expression on his face, but his eyes are weirdly focused.

“Please?” it comes out quieter than the boy intended. He catches Clint’s gaze lower before he turns his head away and places his hands on the keys.

The first tones sound surprisingly well to Pietro’s ears. It obviously isn’t a classical tune, it sounds nothing like those fancy melodies Pietro had heard over the years. But it still has a vague calming effect on him. What Pietro doesn’t expect is for the archer to start singing along. It’s even worse when Clint’s voice is awfully on key.

 _“Waking up, falling back into your arms  
__You’re not really here at all, only in my mind,”_ Clint’s voice is soothing. The emotions behind those words leave a warm touch behind.

 _“Take away, take this haunting out of me.  
__Like a ghost I cannot see, keeping hope alive,”_ the song carries on and the notes are almost fluid under Clint’s fingers. If there are any mistakes, Pietro is too consumed to really hear them.

It takes him miles away in his thoughts. He’s not even aware of how lost he is until suddenly he realizes Clint has turned his head to him and stares right into his eyes. They are so honest that Pietro doesn’t dare to look away.

 _“All of these nights are lies.  
__I’ll have you back, but I know that karma lied,”_ Pietro watches Clint’s eyes drop for a split second down to his lips. He’s mesmerized by the melody, by the words that Clint sings to him. It’s like they have this special meaning, just now, in this very present moment. It feels so intimate and fragile that Pietro doesn’t have the nerve to move an inch.

He has never had anyone to sing a song exclusively to him before. It’s strange, to a certain point. He hears these words and understands their meaning. Yet he knows there is so much more behind. With the way Clint stares at him, bares his soul for Pietro to see, he thinks he understands every syllable. _But how can I be sure? Where is this feeling coming from?_

 _“I opened up my eyes and I realized – only dreams are keepin’ this love alive.  
__All the nights are lies,”_ Clint’s voice wavers at the end. The melody keeps on flowing for another couple seconds before Clint lets his hands slip down from the keyboard. Pietro’s heart is beating fast in his chest and he’s afraid that the other man will hear it.

When he gets lost in the blue of Clint’s eyes, he swears he can see the reflection of his own mixed emotions there.

“Thank you,” Pietro manages to say after a while.

Clint looks away and reaches for the bottle. It’s pushed too far, which only seems to frustrate the man. It’s like these words shattered the atmosphere, even though they were spoken so softly and sincerely.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Pietro says, not raising his voice.

“You don’t decided that,” Clint grumbles and stands up to reach his drink.

Pietro beats him to it with his super speed. Within two seconds the bottle is safely disposed of, nowhere near the archer’s sharp sight.

“Why don’t you come with me now? I’ll walk you to your room,” Pietro offers and stands in front of Clint, one hand held out for him to take.

It seemed like the only reasonable thing to do. Pietro felt like things were changing too fast for his own liking. He felt something weird when Clint sang that song for him and he wasn’t quite sure where to place the new sensation. It was confusing him even more when he recalled that he and Clint were never exactly close. Putting up childish banters and prank wars? Sure. Getting close in their friendship? Never.

Clint had made it clear months ago, that Pietro meant a lot to him and that he indeed doesn’t intend to put an arrow in him. And while Pietro appreciated it, it never made him say similar words back. He thinks it might be because he never thought about Clint that way. He liked the man, yes. Mostly as a friend. And that is why there are unidentified feelings he sports for the said archer and doesn’t have a clue what to do with them.

“Leave me alone, Pietro,” the words pierce through the silence, but they aren’t mad. They aren’t loud either.

“I’m not leaving you alone, not like this,” Pietro insists, sitting back next to Clint. “Do you feel like walking with me for a bit?” Pietro offers, not quite ready to give up on him. He had no idea how much did Clint drink and if he could even walk. But it was worth a shot.

“Why do all this?” Clint asks, his hands flying up in frustration. If it wasn’t for Pietro’s fast reflexes, he would get smacked in the process. Clint was now looking at him with fury. Not even the dark of the night could hide the raging flames in his eyes.

“Why would _you_ , of all the people, come here? Why?” his voice was steadily rising. Pietro tried to calm him with his hands only to be pushed away. “Do you even realize, how miserable you make my life? Huh?” he was breathing through his nose now, hands running through his hair constantly. Pietro had spent enough time with Clint to know he only did that when he was frustrated with something. He would know since he was usually the main source of it.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’ve never mea-“

“Oh, shut up, please!” Clint snorts. “This is not even your fault, you know?” the words are slurred, but there. Confusing Pietro even further.

The archer leans over, patting Pietro’s cheek awkwardly.

“You… you are so stupid,” Clint babbles. His eyes are dropping, the alcohol probably already at full mast in his organism.

“Come on, I’ll get you to your bed,” Pietro stands up and takes the protesting man with him.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Clint whines, but lets Pietro manhandle him anyway.

The archer is pretty heavy when he doesn’t cooperate, Pietro notices. He steers them to the hallway and then further through the system of corridors. Clint’s legs barely work the way they should, which causes them to zigzag and sway a lot on their way. Pietro is lucky – with his fast metabolism any bruises he’d sport would disappear within minutes, hours top. He wasn’t so sure about Clint, though.

“You’re just drunk, you need to sleep it off,” Pietro replies and tightens his grip around Clint’s waist.

As they make their way towards Clint’s room, the archer’s shirt slowly rides up as he’s falling from Pietro’s grip most of the time. It was so much easier to hold him in his arms back in Sokovia. Pietro is going back and forth between scooping Clint up and carrying him the bridal style or keep on walking. Realizing that he is too tired for this shit, he decides that it would only help Clint to walk his drunkenness off, even if only by a bit.

“Mmmh, your hands feel nice,” Clint mumbles and rests his head on Pietro’s shoulder.

The younger man feels his cheeks burning up at that remark. Normally, Pietro wouldn’t make anything out of it. But considering what the archer said just minutes ago and how it all felt, it didn’t leave much space for misinterpretation. Of course he could second guess his own conclusions. He could easily tell himself that Clint is drunk out of his mind and doesn’t know what he’s saying. And Pietro knows it would probably be the right thing to do. Not to make anything out of this whole situation.

But the tiny voice in Pietro’s head kept telling him it’s bullshit. Clint would’ve never said any of it if there weren’t any feelings on his part in the first place.

_Shut up brain!_

The rest of the walk is filled with Clint’s drunk complaints and unsteady steps. It felt like forever to Pietro, but eventually he finds himself standing right in front of Clint’s door, with the said man leaning against him.

“Alright, where are your keys?” he asks.

“Should be…” Clint starts and attempts to look for them at the same time.

It ends up with him leaning dangerously away from Pietro and almost falling. The younger man catches him at the last minute, pressing Clint closer to his side. “Some pocket… I dunno,” he starts giggling uncontrollably and Pietro can only roll his eyes. He would be lying if he said it wasn’t at least a tiny bit endearing.

The archer hides his face in Pietro’s neck and it suddenly becomes hard to ignore his close presence.

“Which one?”

“Why dontchu find out, huh?” Clint giggles like a little girl and Pietro is grateful that the corridor is too dark for Clint to see the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Fine,” he huffs and cheats with his super speed to search through Clint’s pocket. “Your back pocket, how smart,” Pietro remarks dryly and shakes his head before opening the door.

He helps Clint inside and kicks the door shut behind him. He drops the archer down on his bed and lets him sit there so he can go down on his knees and start undoing his boots. And seriously, why does Clint always need to walk around in combat boots? It’s fucking annoying. Especially when Clint is god damn drunk and chants a litany of words over him and Pietro is the one that has to undo his boots.

Pietro bites his tongue so he doesn’t complain like a little kid and instead settles to a more comfortable position on the floor. He’s kneeling between Clint’s legs and he thinks it should probably feel awkward, but he’s too exhausted to care.

He lets Clint complain over him, talk about little nonsenses that are probable brilliant logic in his own drunken world. Half of the stuff goes unnoticed. Pietro tries real hard to ignore it, knowing that Clint is too drunk to mean any of it. But there is one request from Clint that catches his attention more than it should.

“Your hair looks so soft, can I touch it? Pleaaaase,” Clint pleads over him. It’s whiny and Pietro’s only anchor right now is the prospect of using this against him in the future. Clint will never see the end of it. He has to think that way or else he’s risking he might get crazy from the suggestive way Clint’s voice sounds.

“Please, I really -hic- wanted to do this. Like… for a long time, y’know?” Clint is still talking, when Pietro finally allows it.

“Alright, fine, whatever,” he says, annoyed. Right now he would do anything to stop the man from fidgeting and talking. Just enough to undo all the ties and buckles on his boots.

He wishes he knew where it was all coming from. He wants to be angry with Clint, but it’s just not there. The anger is all gone. He couldn’t be mad at that stupid birdman even if he tried. Not after he had heard him play these damn depressing things on piano and watched him getting wasted. It’s the alcohol speaking anyway, right?

He undoes another buckle and Clint pushes his hair out of his face. It’s innocent, really. He’s just feeling his hair up, plays with them contently. And Pietro doesn’t mind. Clint’s fingers soon run through his hair, pulling and tugging on them as they go. It stings deliciously and Pietro has to bit his lip to contain the sounds that are threatening to escape his mouth. The light scraping of nails on his scalp is almost addictive. It makes Pietro to close his eyes and stop what he’s doing altogether.

The archer runs his fingers slowly up and down his scalp. He’s sure enjoying the feeling of Pietro’s hair underneath his fingers, making a mess of them. This time, he tugs harder on the longer ends of his white hair and forces the kneeling boy to look at him. Pietro obeys and looks up at the archer. A mistake he will never forget he made.

He is met with an intense, blurred gaze. The way Clint plays with his hair is almost seductive. He’s massaging his scalp gently with his fingers, occasionally using his nails to make it sting a little more. It sends shivers down Pietro’s spine, making him want more.

“You’re so pretty,” Clint whispers, cradling Pietro’s head in his big hands. It shouldn’t be so damn pleasant for Pietro. Not when he’s in such an awkward position, kneeling on the floor in front of the man. But it feels good and weirdly satisfying. It’s filling up that empty space inside his soul.

“Yeah?” Pietro hardly recognizes his own voice. It’s raw and strange to his ears.

“I wish I were younger,” Clint smiles sadly and traces the fingers of his right hand over Pietro’s cheek. He slides them down to his chin and finally lets them rest on his neck. The touch is warm and tender and it makes Pietro’s eyelids drop. He’s sure he would purr like a cat if he could.

“What for?” Pietro knows he’s asking silly questions. But at the same time he knows he can. There would hardly be a better time for it.

“So I could keep up with you,” there were words unspoken behind that sentence. Pietro could feel them hang in the air around them. The atmosphere changes, from the drunkenly happy to a far more serious one. “So I wouldn’t feel so fucking guilty thinking about you,” it was a whisper that hit hard. Pietro couldn’t believe the words he had just heard.

“You think about me?” he asks. Blood is rushing to his cheeks, makes them a pretty shade of crimson.

“More than I should,” Clint nods, his head falling a bit too sharply.

Pietro feels the calloused fingers on his neck move slightly. They are tracing meaningless patterns on his skin, leaving a tingling sensation behind. Pietro allows himself to close his eyes and relax to the touch. It’s so gentle and pleasant he’s getting lost in it. The way it sends chills down his body and warms his heart at the same time is almost sensual. It’s all Pietro needs to feel content.

Being at hands of someone older and experienced makes Pietro relax. He trusts Clint, trusts his instincts. Even if the man is drunk, Pietro knows he isn’t a threat. This knowledge brings a sense of calm and safety, letting Pietro relax his tensed muscles and enjoy the moment.

It’s the gentle pull upwards that makes Pietro open his eyes. Clint has unreadable expression on his face, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gives him away. The archer is guiding him up, expecting Pietro to obey his silent plead. It feels natural to compel. So Pietro stands up, curious about what is the archer up to. He doesn't have to wait long. As soon as Pietro stands tall in front of him, Clint straightens his back and reaches out to grasp Pietro’s hips. He makes small circles with his thumbs, ruffling the fabric of his t-shirt and pushing it up to his waist. Clint choses that moment to use his strength and drags Pietro closer.

“Wait, what are y-“

“Shh, just… don’t talk now,” Clint murmurs against the skin of his belly and pulls Pietro further to his lap. The younger boy is left with no choice but to place each knee on either side of the archer and sit on his lap. He wants to protest, clear his head and ask what is all that, but is met with insanely hot lips on his neck.

It freezes everything in that room. Even the time seems to stop running.

Clint places open-mouthed kisses on his neck that are scorching. They combine perfectly with the strong grip Clint has on his hips. He holds him down and doesn’t let him go anywhere else. His eyelashes flutter in the sudden surge of lust. Clint knows just how to touch him to elect all these embarrassing sounds from him. The way he bites on his pulse point and rakes his nails over his sensitive back should be illegal.

Pietro hadn’t even known he wanted all this so badly. Until now that it’s already happening. He thinks that Clint seduced him real nice and quick. And he doesn’t even mind. Instead, he shamelessly lets slip another moan when Clint sucks on his earlobe.

But Pietro knows better than this. He realizes he has to put a stop to it before it’s too late. Because one – Clint is way too drunk to be able to give a believable consent. And two – this was all happening so quickly that Pietro wasn’t sure whether he really wants it or whether it’s just his hormones that are in charge of his actions.

“Clint, please,” he whines, trying to pull away. It only causes Clint to be more persuasive, licking over the abused skin and running his hands up and down his upper body.

“I want you,” Clint rasps, lips still touching his neck, sending vibrations straight to Pietro’s dick. He moans at that, feeling vulnerable and prone to the older man’s actions. He finds his own hands on Clint’s shoulders, digging his fingers in and holding there for dear life.

“Y-you’re drunk,” Pietro protest and bites his lip to stop the moan that’s threatening to escape his mouth when Clint sucks on the skin right below his ear. That bastard. “You don’t know what you’re doing, this is not alright,” Pietro continues, only to be silenced with another filthy kiss on his neck.

“I’m- oh god,” Pietro’s eyes roll in the back of his skull in pleasure. He’s a sucker for neck kisses and biting. It takes everything in his willpower to get off of Clint’s lap.

He’s breathing hard when he does, his heart beating fast and loud in his ears.

“Pietro-“ it sounds so broken that the blond almost gives in and straddles the archer again. He wants the archer just as bad.

_You gotta be strong, damn it!_

“We can talk about this when you sober up, okay?” Pietro says, trying to be the reasonable one for once. Wanda should see him right now, she’d be proud.

“You don’t want me,” Clint nearly sobs. “Is it because I’m an old man? Is it?” it’s damaged, Pietro thinks.

How long has Clint suffered through his teasing? Did it get too far over the time? Is there a line Pietro crossed that he should’ve seen? He’s ashamed that he never considered that his childish behavior could get to Clint like this. It was never his intention to make him miserable about his age or appearance. If anything, Pietro liked how experienced Clint was in his field. It was his ego that wouldn’t let him admire it out loud. Instead, it would always end up with some old man remarks. Pietro makes a mental note to stop calling him that once and for all.

“Listen, I’ve never said I don’t want you, okay? But I think you’ve drank too much and I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Pietro looks him right in the eye until Clint slowly nods. “We will deal with this in the morning,” he gives him a small smile and steps closer to the archer to kiss his cheek. It’s quick, barely there, but it seems to do the trick.

Clint lets his body fall onto the bed, all the resolve to fight already leaving his mind. Pietro sighs and helps the archer to lay down properly. He takes his boots off the rest of the way, the movement a lot easier when most of the buckles were already unfastened. Before Pietro manages to pull a blanket over him, the man is fast asleep.

Pietro leaves with a spinning head and sick feeling in his stomach. There is a bruise on his neck that fades in the next hour.

He nestles on the couch in the living room, but doesn’t fall asleep for another hour or two. His head is heavy with questions and worries. It’s preventing him from getting any rest, despite the fact that his body is screaming in exhaustion. But in the end it’s his body that wins over his mind. Pietro can finally close his eyes, just as the sun rises over the horizon. He hears faint steps, moments before he hits the unconscious world. They belong to Steve who’s up for his morning run.

The Captain notices Pietro laying on the couch. He covers him with a blanket before he leaves, worried when he sees the dark circles under the kid’s eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright my sweetest little things!  
> Here goes another chapter and my sincere apologies if some sentences don't sound right. Time is pushing me and this was kind of last minut editing.
> 
> I'm leaving for Slovenia tomorrow, for a week, so even though I have another chapter already written and all, it still needs tons of editing. So please be patient with the next chapter coming up. I'm gonna try to add it next Sunday, but God knows what will happen :D

The next morning is hell.

Pietro wakes up with aching back and morose mood. He’s still on the couch where he dozed off just hours earlier.

He stares at the white ceiling, debating with himself whether he should go back to sleep or not. How many hours did he manage to sleep in the last week anyway? Three or four hours per day? He couldn’t remember when he last woke up well-rested and happy. But being finally awake was better than trying to sleep again, Pietro thought. Even at the expense of his total exhaustion.

He closes his eyes for a minute and just takes in his surroundings.

Everyone is already awake, if the cheery voices coming from the kitchen are anything to go by. He hears them laughing and talking in that awfully happy manner.  _How on Earth?_ Pietro is not in the mood for socializing at all. But he also realizes that it’s kind of inevitable since the kitchen and living room create an open space. And even though the blond would rather mope over his morning coffee all alone, he knows it would be unfair from him to storm out of the place and ruin their breakfast. Not everyone needs to suffer with him.

So he bites the bullet and gets up from the couch. He greets everyone silently with a wave of hand. The Avengers got used to his taciturnity long ago. Despite Pietro’s constant buzzing energy, he was usually quiet and wouldn’t talk much in the morning. And he would remain silent until two things occurred (exactly in this precise order).

First, he would steal Tony’s cup of coffee (right from his hands, because he can and he’s a little shit). And second, he would get his favorite cereal. The combination of caffeine and high dose of sugar did wonders to Pietro’s morning grumpiness. Usually, yes. But today was no that day.

Tony is shocked when Pietro doesn’t snatch his coffee.

“What’s up Speedy? Somebody stole your sombrero?” Tony jokes.

They made it kind of a habit. Tony would roll his eyes when his coffee went “unexpectedly” missing and would reach behind him to get the other one he made in preparation. Only that lately Steve got used to the freshly brewed coffee lying on the counter and would conquer it before Tony even got the chance to turn around.

If it was anybody else taking the spare cup, Pietro is sure Tony would at least zap them with his electric screwdriver he carried around with him. But when it came down to the Captain, Tony Stark couldn’t possibly be mad. At all.

So now Tony is left with his very own cup of coffee for the first time in months. And no wonder it left him confused.

“I’m not some running mouse, okay?” Pietro snaps and fumbles with the coffee maker to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Good to see you’re in a good mood, brother,” Wanda teases with a glint in her eye. He barely resists the urge to snap at her as well.

Blaming his low sugar level on her would be both stupid and a waste of time. So being well-aware that Wanda doesn’t deserve any rude treatment, he shuts his mouth with the much needed coffee. He sits behind the breakfast bar, him and Clint being the only ones to ever sit there. The rest of the Avengers usually sat by the long table.

When Pietro looks around the kitchen, he sees that the main source of his sleepless night isn’t awake yet. It makes him relax a bit in his chair. He wasn’t exactly sure what yesterday, well, technically today, meant. The struggle to come to a conclusion was excruciating. There couldn’t possibly be a right answer to the questions he had. Pietro realized that the only right answers are in the possession of a certain archer.

He wanted to know why Clint did it. Yes, he heard his drunken reasons. Yes, he considered them. But the thirst after knowing more, knowing better, was steadily growing.

It wasn’t just Clint’s side of story that Pietro wanted to learn, though. His own reactions took him by surprise. And he still hadn’t figured what caused them. He thought that maybe there were some feelings he had for the archer prior to the whole incident. Or maybe his body and mind were so touch-deprived that he succumbed to the first real touch he received from someone other than his sister.

There is a sharp movement in front of him that causes his body to jolt in surprise.

“You need to eat,” Wanda sets a bowl of cereal in front of him.

“Thank you,” Pietro gives her a small smile. He could never express his gratitude to her. It was the small things like this that reminded him of how much they do for each other. She ruffles his hair before she sits back down and leaves him to his sulking.

And really, it’s not any different from Pietro’s other mornings. Wanda knows his short-tempered persona too well, so she doesn’t make anything out of it. Pietro thinks she has no clue what’s really bothering him this time. And to be honest, he’s glad. The idea of her excited-slash-worried interrogation gives him a headache.

So he falls silent again and listens to everyone else around.

Steve and Sam talk excitedly to Rhodey about the progress they made on the Winter Soldier case. Tony speaks to Natasha about the improvements he made on her suit, promising it was pure technology and that any fashion décor was on Coulson. There is also some fashion discussion between Wanda and Pepper that every other man in the room stays out of.

Stopping mentally over Tony, Pietro thinks he would love to see Natasha’s unimpressed face at Tony’s fashion-designing attempts. It would most likely be something ridiculously revealing. The mental picture of Natasha staring Tony down into blabbering mess made Pietro smile into his cereal bowl. Yeah, it would be nice.

The breakfast passes as any other would. Except for a small detail.

_That idiot is still not here._

And Pietro can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, he really wants to see the archer. On the other, he doesn’t know if he can take it.

Seeing him after what he’d said, after what he’d done. It would be different. Perhaps not in a bad way, but Pietro is well-aware that their actions were bound to change the things between them.

With a sigh, Pietro looks over at the coffee pot that sits on the kitchen counter. It’s funny, how small things like this can bring back memories you had no idea existed in your mind.

It was this annoying habit Clint had. Drinking straight out of the coffee pot.

Almost every single Avenger found it either disgusting or at least cringe-worthy. But not Pietro, no. He thought it was rather endearing when he watched Clint strut to the kitchen and drink straight out of the coffee pot. He looked so domestic like that. Pietro liked to think it was the only situation when he saw Clint more relaxed than when he did archery. He would be standing in front of the kitchen counter, barefoot, wearing his hideous purple boxers and grey t-shirt. With his hair tousled from sleep, he always looked oddly calm and composed.

Clint would take the coffee pot with him to the breakfast bar and set it next to the only other grumpy Avenger. After he’d sit comfortably for at least five minutes, he would start talking to Pietro. Just some snarky, meaningless things or lame jokes.

Pietro hated talking in the morning. Pietro hated interacting with other humans in the morning.

But Clint?

Yeah, Pietro could make an exception.

The older man had his ways. Knew how to use his charms, too. Clint’s humor was dry and down to earth and it clicked perfectly with Pietro. If there was ever a smile on Pietro’s lips so early in the day, it was most likely Clint’s fault.

The best part, Pietro thought, was how Clint never gave up on entertaining him.

There is one particular morning Pietro remembers. It was after a mission that didn’t go as they expected. He got a few scratches, nothing serious. But Clint ended up with stitches and bandages and it made Pietro furious. He still feared, even now, that Clint could get killed during a mission because he decides to sacrifice himself again. He had been especially grumpy the following morning. Clint had limped casually (well, as much as you can limp casually anyway) to the kitchen and started with taking a swig straight from the coffee pot. The Avengers were so tired and sore that nobody had the strength to tell Clint off for his gross behavior. He gave Pietro a smirk, a god damn arrogant smirk and sat down next to him. Pietro tried to be angry with the man, but ten minutes later he was laughing at his idiotic jokes.

Maybe he should’ve seen it coming.

All this time that he thought it was just how Clint displayed his friendly affection to him. it never occurred to him that it might be a different kind of affection.

Until last night Pietro had no idea he had any feelings, other than friendship, for Clint. He was so used to pushing his own feelings aside, that he had no idea how to distinguish between physical attraction and something serious. For years it’s been him and Wanda trying to survive. There wasn’t time for silly love escapades and questions.

“Where is the bird man? Anyone?” Tony chimes in, wrecking Pietro’s train of thoughts.

“I’ll get him,” Natasha replied with a smirk and left.

So it’s here, Clint will join them in the kitchen. In minutes, probably.

Pietro had to turn pale at that thought, because Wanda was looking at him with a concern. Before he could tell her she doesn’t need to worry, she was already in his mind.

_‘What is it Pietro?’_

_‘Please, not now, Wanda,’_ Pietro pleaded her with his eyes. He was glad she was discreet and reached him with her powers.

_‘As you wish, brother. But we’ll talk later,”_ she dismisses him quite easily, which is never a good sign.

_‘We will,’_ he promised her.

Wanda nodded curtly at him and carried on with the conversation she had with Vision as if nothing happened. Pietro was grateful she left him for now. He was bracing himself for the dreadful moment when he would see Clint again. He was sure that there would be plenty of flashbacks from the previous night. He was so screwed.

“Seems like Barton got shitfaced yesterday,” Natasha announced with a grin. “He asks us to politely excuse him and expect him for lunch. Maybe,” it elected a laugh from Tony and frown from Steve.

“Does he realize he has practice with Pietro today?” Steve asked matter-of-factly.

Oh shit.  _Oh shit!_

Pietro all but forgot about it. There was no way he would be able to talk his way out of this one.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be okay by then,” Natasha promised. It seemed to do the trick. Pietro watched as the frown disappeared from Steve’s face and he happily returned to whatever it was he was discussing with Sam and Rhodey.

_‘Whatever this is about, I’m with you, brother,’_ a tiny voice in his head spoke up. It made a genuine smile appear on Pietro’s face, even though he was still eyeing his cereal at the moment.

_‘Thank you sis,’_ he throws back in his mind.

_‘Face it like a man, I’m sure you’ll do just fine,’_ she said it with such a sweet undertone to her voice, that Pietro was almost sure she snooped around in his head and got everything she needed to know. And that she knew something he didn’t. He decided not to call her out on it, there would be time for it later.

Instead, Pietro set his mind on the goal ahead. Wanda was right, after all. He should face it like a man. No running away this time.

So when Pietro stands in the training room exactly two hours later, he practically shakes with the pent up energy and nervousness. He wills his stomach to go still, but barely succeeds. He’s well aware that it’d be kind of stupid to throw up just because he’s nervous.

_Calm down, Maximoff. It’s Barton we’re talking about!_

There are hundreds of possible scenarios running in Pietro’s head. From the pretty heated and sexy ones to the downright outrageous scenes that make no sense. But they could all happen. Technically.

“Alright, kid, get your gear,” a strong voice breaks him out of the overthinking.

Clint is there, all of sudden, in his training suit and all. His hair still a little damp. Presumably from the shower he just took minutes ago. Pietro looks expectantly at the archer. He’s waiting for the older man to bring up the things that happened last night. Make things clear. There’s so much that Pietro wants to say out loud.

But Clint, that bastard, looks calm like any other practice day. His features are composed and neutral.  _Isn’t he bothered at all?_

“Are you with me Speedy?” Clint waves his hand in front of Pietro’s face to make him focus.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m here,” Pietro absently answers, brows creasing.

“Fine, so let’s start then,” the archer says with the tiniest of smiles playing on his lips.

_So does he just avoid the subject? Is it some kind of game? Does he enjoy the tension?_

Pietro bit his lip and walked over to the shelves where most of the gear was stored. He’s one hand in the special gloves Stark designed for the training, when he stops in his movements.

“Are we going to talk about yesterday?” Pietro bursts. As soon as the words leave him, he clasps a hand over his mouth, cursing himself mentally for addressing the whole thing.

“What about yesterday?” Clint looks up from where he’s adjusting the straps of his knee-high training boots.

_“Your hair is so soft, can I touch it?”_ Clint’s voice echoes in his head. The feeling of his calloused fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp is so real this time. Pietro swears he can feel it all over again.

“Th-the… the thing,” Pietro wildly gestures with his hands, frustrated.

“The thing?” the archer smirks, obviously amused by Pietro’s helplessness.

“When you got drunk?” the younger man pushes.

“Oh, Natasha told you?” Clint avoids Pietro’s eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Would you mind to skip this topic?” he looks back up.

“No. I think we really need to talk about it!” Pietro is raging. How could Clint ever want to avoid speaking about it after what happened, is beyond him.

“Look,” Clint takes a deep breath in and takes his time to find the right words. “Some things have been pressuring me lately, okay? And I needed to blow off some steam, other than exercise,” he looks down at his hands. “So I found Stark’s alcohol stash and let’s just say it didn’t go well for me and neither for his stash. And that’s about everything I remember,” the words ring in Pietro’s ears.

“Next thing I know I’m lying in my bed with a bitch of a headache,” Clint tries to shrug off his embarrassment, but fails. “Look, I appreciate that you want to talk about it, but I can assure you I’m fine. You don’t have to worry,” Clint puts his hand on Pietro’s shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly.

Pietro stares at him with open mouth. In any other circumstances, Clint would laugh his ass off, considering he just made the “annoying brat” shut up for once.

“What, it’s not like the rest of the Avengers are Straight Edge or something,” Clint rolls his eyes and pats Pietro’s back with a grin. “So. Can we begin, kid?”

_Stay calm, just answer. Simple as that._

“Sure. Sorry for bringing it up,” Pietro’s mind was wandering elsewhere. It seemed like Clint genuinely didn’t remember a single thing that happened yesterday.

But what if it’s an act? A well composed act? After all, Clint was one of the best agents S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had. Conspiracy theories aside, Pietro knew that the man probably had a blank space in his head and didn’t remember anything that happened. He was sure that if he remembered, Clint would show at least a tiny sign of nervousness around him or at least drop a hint that they would talk about things later. But there was none of it. None.

“Shut up and let’s start the training already,” Clint light heartedly jabs in his ribs and walks over to the mats so they could begin.

“Right,” Pietro whispers under his breath and follows.

He gets his ass handed back to him on a silver plate during the training. Unable to concentrate at Clint’s movements with his head full of worry. He ends up more than once on his back down on the mat. With Clint’s body pressed up tight against his in a very uncomfortable position. The blond notices more this time. Little things. Like the way Clint’s hands feel against his bared skin. Or the way the archer uses his strength to push him down and hold him there.

“What’s wrong, kid? You’re doing a pretty shitty job today,” Clint comments on the fact that Pietro ends up on his ass again. “Get your head in the game,” he tries to encourage him. It’s definitely better than his usual mockery.

They continue sparing for another hour before Clint calls it a day. Pietro sits on the gym floor and starts undoing the training gloves. He’s angry and tired and there’s nothing he can do about his bottled up emotions.

Clint approaches him couple minutes later and pushes a water bottle to his hand. He looks like he wants to turn and go away, but instead sits in front of Pietro.

“Hey kid, it’s clear something’s bothering you,” Clint starts, all jokes left aside. There is something in his features that looks like concern. Pietro would know, Wanda used that kind of look on him on daily basis.

“I’m fine,” the blond tries to wave if off.

“Look, I know we aren’t exactly besties, but if you want to talk, or you know, whatever. I’m here,” he squeezes Pietro’s shoulder and smiles.

“Thanks,” Pietro returns the smile politely and nods.

If he sprints away after that, it had absolutely nothing to do with the way Clint was looking at him.

He runs to his room in a blur of blue and silver, probably knocking Steve or Tony on his way. There would be some stern looks waiting for him at the lunch.

Which he eventually decided to skip in favor of staying at his room.

It was all so confusing to Pietro.

He was so used to putting away his needs and feelings. It was him and his sister living hand to mouth for years. After that it was Hydra and their sick experiments. They were lucky they survived, even if Pietro sometimes wonders if it was worth all the damage. The casualties, the guilt they had to live with. The nightmares.  _Was it worth it, now? Was it?_

Having Clint’s hands on him again was a dull knife to his chest. It reminded him the heat and lust from the last night. The barely-there moans and breathy words. Clint’s own neediness and little confessions. That fucking tune by Rachmaninoff still playing distantly in his head, mingling with the smell of whisky and old wood.

Pietro had registered before the way Clint looked. He was handsome. Not exactly Pietro’s age range, but still hot. Pietro had a thing for his archery gloves, too. The black leather stripes over his forearm accentuated all the good things. Like those muscles or perfect tan.

It just never occurred to Pietro that there might be more to it than just plain and simple aesthetics. It was confusing, though. Being 22 and never in a real relationship, Pietro could hardly distinguish between feelings, attractions and desires. They mingled together, which was infuriating for the boy. He wanted to see things nice and clear, for once. And he thought he had it almost figured, but nope. Birdman had to make that stupid drunk decision and make things difficult.

Pietro knew he couldn’t be angry at the man for not remembering his actions. It just surprised him. After the urgent kisses and desperate touches, he would’ve expected Clint to remember. He even fancied the idea the archer would want to talk about their little endeavor first thing in the morning.

_Plan B, then._

The blond was determined to solve this once and for all. If Clint has these feelings, as he had said last night, they might as well talk about it. And maybe solve the tension, somehow. The only problem being that until yesterday there was practically no tension. Clint was real subtle with his attraction. Pietro thought it was probably because he was scared of the possibility that he would be turned down and mocked for his age. Which, mind you, Pietro would never do. He likes teasing his old man, but making him miserable was never his intention.

With the gears spinning fast in his head, Pietro already makes a plan of how to solve the puzzling case. Sure, he isn’t as open when it comes to flirting. Not as open as Tony, who isn’t afraid to hit on Steve even when the room is full of other people. Luckily for him, Steve never seemed to mind.

But if Pietro wants Clint to admit his feelings without the alcohol, he needs to work out a bullet proof plan. He knows he’s good at driving the archer crazy, it’s not exactly a hardship. The difficult part will be not to push too hard. Just enough to gain the desired reaction. He wants Clint to give in eventually, not scare him off.

He thinks that Clint will be a tough one to break. Since he can’t really remember that he’d ever catch Clint staring at him or flirting with him, for that matter. Unless their little prank wars and banters counted as a form of flirting. Which, if they counted as a flirting, was vaguely childish. And probably cute, because they both had to look like idiots. Thinking more on the subject, Pietro realizes they probably are just two idiots.

Pietro decides that he’ll leave Wanda out of his personal drama for once. She probably knows already anyways, he thinks. And she was so interested in Vision, which Pietro didn’t like to see. Like at all. But he wished his sister was finally happy. So Vision or not, he leaves her out of it.

Instead, he goes to see Natasha. He has a good feeling in his guts that she could help him. But she could also tell him the devastating truth Pietro hopes isn’t really there.

_What if she just laughs at me and tells me that Clint makes passes at everyone when he’s drunk?_

_What if I make a complete fool of myself?_

There isn’t much time to think, because next thing he knows he’s hovering over Natasha who is sunbathing on the roof of the facility.

“Did you come to cast shadows over me, or is there an actual reason why you ran here?” she asks without even opening her eyes.

“Uh, I… I think I need your help?” Pietro rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Really?” Natasha smirks, eyes still closed. She looks gorgeous, Pietro thinks. All smooth curves and perfect skin. There are some scars here and there, but they are barely visible and half-covered by her black bikini.

“Is Clint anywhere around here?” Pietro asks carefully.

“No, not that I’m aware of,” she has a tiny frown on her face now, which only seems like she figured that’s not all. “Is that all you wanted to ask?”

“No, not really,” Pietro shuffles his feet, having no clue how to start.

“So what is it?” Natasha sits up from the chair and walks over to the table that stands in the shadow to grab herself something to drink. “And why is it important to you that Clint doesn’t hear this?” she pours herself cucumber lemonade with ice in it, to which Pietro mentally cringes. He would never say it out loud, but he thinks that cucumber lemonade is an abomination, no excuses whatsoever.

“By the way, if this is about one of your prank wars, don’t count me in. In fact, don’t even tell me about it,” she sips on the drink and raises her perfect eyebrow in expectation. “So?”

“I-this... you know,” Pietro stammers, suddenly all nervous under Natasha’s piercing gaze.

“Is it personal?” she asks. Pietro nods dumbly and refuses to look her in the eye again. Instead he studies the floor carefully. “I won’t laugh at you,” she says in a kind voice. She walks gracefully back to the chair and lays down, gesturing for Pietro to take the other one next to her. “And in case you’re wondering, I won’t tell a living soul, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s about Clint,” Pietro quickly says before he loses the last bits of his courage.

“I figured,” she smiles.

“Does… does he like me?” his heart is beating fast in his chest. He would probably black out by now if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s sitting.

“Well, you are friends, why shouldn’t he?” she avoids the question with all the grace she has. Pietro gets it, she tries to protect Clint just in case his intentions aren’t all that noble.

“No, I meant if he has any feelings for me?” Pietro asks again, quieter this time. “Other than friendly ones,” he adds.

Natasha props herself on her elbows to look better at Pietro. She watches him carefully for what feels like an eternity.

“Why do you care anyway?” her eyes are squinted and Pietro is sure it’s not because of the sun.

“Because…” Pietro bits his lips and looks down at his hands. “Because last night I caught him playing the piano when he was drunk. And I thought he’d had enough, so I helped him to his room. And then he made a pass at me,” Pietro takes another deep breath and quickly glances at Natasha who seems genuinely interested in his story. “I told him he’s too drunk and that we can talk about it in the morning. But it seems like he doesn’t remember a thing,” he sighs and rubs his face. Now that the words are there in the open, it’s like a huge rock has been lifted off of his chest. But there are still some debris left that need to be taken care of.

“And you want to talk about it with him, right?” she asks, her voice gentle.

“I didn’t even know I could have any feelings for him until yesterday,” Pietro is angry with himself, angry at his own idiotic feelings. “But it felt so good. It felt  _right_ , at the moment,” he hides his face in his hands, not wanting Natasha see him blushing

“You know, if there’s one thing you should know, it’s that Clint is stubborn,” she starts and leans over to Pietro so she can grab his hands. He has no choice but to look at her green eyes. “He would never admit his feelings out loud. But I’ve seen him staring at your ass enough times to call him out on his bullshit,” she chuckles.

It instantly rises Pietro’s hopes. Natasha knew Clint for years, if there was anyone able to see through Clint, it was her.

“What should I do? I can’t just confront him about the whole thing,” Pietro whines. “I’ve never caught him staring at me. I literally had no idea he was into me,” he lets himself wonder if he would be able to see it if he knew he had feelings for the man as well.

“You should watch the security footage sometimes,” she smiles knowingly. “Because the way you two work together is obvious,” she hides her smirk behind the glass of lemonade.

"I could ask Jarvis to retrieve the security footage from the last night and leave it at Clint’s room,” Pietro lights up like a Christmas tree at that thought.

“Will it show enough for him to go talk to you?” Natasha raises her eyebrow. She’s right, Pietro thinks. It would be missing the key part since there aren’t any cameras in their rooms.

“No,” Pietro slumps in his seat, visibly defeated.

“Do you trust me, Pietro?” Natasha suddenly asks, watching the young boy closely.

“Of course I do,” he nods dumbly, not sure what she plans.

“Then leave it to me,” she has a devilish smirk on her lips. “I promise I won’t tell a thing to Clint,” she adds quickly when she sees the dread in Pietro’s eyes.

“So what’s the strategy then?”

“There’s movie night tonight, isn’t it?” she tilts her head to the side.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Then leave the rest to me. If my plan fails, we can always come up with something more effective,” she winks. It’s a promise Pietro both likes and doesn’t like to hear.

“Alright, that sounds good,” Pietro smiles at her. “Thank you for helping me, Nat,” he says in all honesty.

Natasha smiles warmly and leans over to ruffle his hair. There is affection in that simple touch, which makes everything better.

“You’re welcome,” she says as she lays back on the deck chair.

Pietro stands up to leave when she speaks up again. “By the way, I’m gonna help you pick up your outfit for tonight,” there’s a hint of smile in her voice, to which Pietro can’t help but laugh.

“I’d appreciate that,” he tells her before disappearing.

He returns to his room to kill the time before dinner. With nothing special on his program he knows it’ll be tough. He forbids himself to think about Clint or any possible scenarios that could go down. But as always, it’s easier said than done.

So he changes his clothes to the ones specially designed for his high-speed running. He knows there’s a lake nearby. Stark and Vision made sure it’s “wiped” from internet maps, because it might attract people. And because people often tend to wander around places. Which might eventually lead them to the Avengers facility and cause problems. Pietro agreed with the policy of laying low. He still hadn’t gotten used to the flashing cameras and general attention of media. And he thought it was probably best if they could be left alone. At least any damage, both in laboratories or during trainings, would go unnoticed by the media and labeled as an immediate threat.

Pietro had no idea, where exactly the lake was, but knew it was in a 30 mile radius from the facility. Nothing he couldn’t manage to run in a minute or two. He heads out in hopes of clearing his head and maybe getting it together.

The song Clint sang for him last night plays in his head over and over. It drives Pietro up the wall.

He runs in his super speed, trying to escape it. If only he could outrun his own mind.

Pietro, confident and cocky as ever, expects to find the lake on his first try. But everything tried to mock him up that day.

He ends up running in circles for good ten minutes. He almost wants to give it up and go home. Maybe Tony wiped the lake literally. For all he knows, he might as well with his insane resources.

_Alright, five more minutes, then I quit._

He promises to himself, but knows he would keep searching the whole day if it was necessary. Pietro was one hell of a stubborn prick and he was well aware of it. To his surprise, there comes a shiny surface to his view and he knows he found what he was looking for. He overcomes the short distance easily with a smirk playing on his lips.

It was actually even nicer than Pietro imagined it would be. There is surprisingly sandy shore at the edge of the lake, where sun shines just the right amount, so it’s not burning to touch.

Pietro realizes how uncomfortably sticky his skin became. Even though his clothes were designed to dispose of the sweat and keep his body temperature even, he still finds them vaguely uncomfortable at times. He looks closely at his surroundings. Looks for other people or possible danger. When he finds nothing but leafs shaking in the light wind, he relaxes and takes off his clothes. He sits at the edge of the lake with just his boxers on, feeling relaxed.

There’s a faint contraction in his muscles from the running he just did. Pietro loves the slow-build burn that spreads through his body. It’s comforting in a way that tells him he is so very alive and his body is functioning the way it was designed to. He tries not to think too hard about  _how_ exactly was his body designed. The purpose of his run to the lake was to chill, not to worry. So he lays down in the warm sand, head partially hidden in the shadows.

It’s hard to remember the last time he had done something so seemingly reckless and simple like that.

Pietro takes a deep breath in and wills his muscles to relax. Light wind messes his hair and caresses his exposed body. He stays like that for a while. He catches the sunrays on his skin and thinks that he’ll sure get these annoying tan lines because he chose to leave his underwear on. He deliberately goes back and forth between taking them off and just sunbathing naked. But with his job and life, he’s pretty sure it would go wrong one way or the other.

But in the hot afternoon sun the water is practically begging Pietro to get in it.

Fuck it, he thinks and takes off the last piece of clothing remaining and throws it at the heap of clothes next to him. He dives to the welcoming chilly water like a kid. When he surfaces to breathe again, there is mess of his golden hair in his eyes. He pushes them out of his face and realizes he’s laughing.

_I really need to take Wanda with me the next time_ . He makes a mental note to ask her later. They used to go to the lake in Sokovia with their parents, back in the day. Pietro almost forgot what it was like. He could leave all the worries behind and splash around him like a little child without anyone judging him.

He stayed in the water for good half an hour or so, testing what he could do with his super speed in the different environments. It was finally a fun activity that Pietro genuinely enjoyed doing with his speed. Unlike other times this wouldn’t bring back any painful memories. Only those that time bleached to the point where Pietro could hardly remember.

Like that one time he and Wanda were playing at the shore of a small lake back at home. They made sand castles out of dirt and mud, laughing at how dirty they both were. Their dad would often join in, help them with more difficult structures and finally let them put the dirt on him as well. Their mom would fondly shake her head at them. She was never mad. Pietro remembers her laughing and saying she doesn’t want to get dirty. But the three of them would eventually convince her to join in.

Pietro didn’t know he still had that memory. Now that it surfaced, he was so happy he remembered. It left that feeling of warmth inside his heart. Familiar to the one Clint managed to create last night.

_Damn it, Maximoff, stop thinking about him!_

The blond boy realized he’s been standing in the same spot in the lake for at least ten minutes. Shaking his head, he decides it’s time to get out. He gets back to the shore and pulls on his boxers. He sits in the sun to dry off and watches the peaceful water surface in the meantime. His mind is pleasantly empty, filled only with white noise and random thoughts.

When he decides it’s time to dress up and head back, he can’t help it but think about Clint. He knows he can push the subject away only for so long. Now that he knows that last time it wasn’t just the alcohol talking and that the archer has some feelings for him, it changes the whole situation.

Pietro wonders why Clint never made a pass at him or tried to flirt. He was probably following some nonsense rules as “not dating a fellow Avenger”, Pietro thinks. But he had seen the way Stark looks at Cap. If there was any such policy, Steve would be the one fully respecting it instead of returning Tony’s looks. So it’s not the rules, then.

Pietro ties his shoe laces and straightens back up.  _It’s probably my fault anyway. He told me he feels old and calling him an old man all the time couldn’t have helped the case._ Pietro knows it’s true, he realized that as soon as Clint told him yesterday. He feels like a dick for calling Clint old. But in a way it was how he says  _thank you_ or  _I like you_ to the archer.

He runs his fingers through his damp hair one last time before he sets off to find the Avengers HQ.

As he speeds off, he doesn’t feel the pair of hungry eyes following him the entire time. He didn’t realize there could be someone up in the tree crowns.

A certain archer has decided it would be a good thing to train his observation skills outdoors.

He wishes he hadn’t made that decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know in the comments what do you think! :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the holiday in Slovenia was more exhausting than I expected. I'm sorry it took me so long, I suck at deadlines (aka story of my life)  
> Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this chapter, fluff included! :3

It’s evening and Pietro practically vibrates with energy.

The dinner took forever when Pietro didn’t have his favorite archer to annoy. The seat next to him was empty the whole time and it left him wonder where the man could be. And he didn’t stop thinking about it long after he was already in his room.

Was Clint avoiding him? Nonsense, he doesn’t remember a thing. Did he get drunk again? Maybe, but not likely. It was still too early in the evening, at least in Pietro’s opinion. Was he sent on a mission? There weren’t any real threats lately.

“You with me?”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Pietro replies quicker than was necessary.

He leaves his thoughts aside and focuses his attention on Natasha. She is currently rummaging through his wardrobe, fishing for something he could wear later that night. She assured him that Clint probably trained or something. And that he would never miss a movie night in his life. They were his favorite kind of geeky entertainment.

Looking at Clint’s huge collection of action figures, Pietro thinks the poor man missed the whole point of the word geeky.

"Do you own anything else besides sports wear?” she asks, buried deep in the closet.

“I don’t think I do, sorry,” he replies, feeling out of place.

He had never owned so many clothes in his life as he does now. And it only seemed natural for him to buy the clothes he actually needed, nothing fancy or special. His training clothes usually suffered the most damage, so Pietro always bought them in advance. The rest of his clothes was mostly Tony’s work, made to withstand extreme conditions. Like fire and ice.

Besides the Avenger’s facility, there weren’t many places he could go shopping. He never even felt the desire to do so. Maybe once or twice when Wanda talked him into going with her and Pepper. But then some annoying paparazzi had found them and it spoiled all the fun for him.

“We’ll just have to be creative, then,” she shakes her head with a smile and disappears into the closet again.

She comes out minutes later with some clothes in her hands.

“First of all,” she starts and Pietro can see the devilish smile that reaches her eyes. That can’t be good. “You don’t want to come off like you’re trying too hard. So put on these sweats, they make your ass look great and they look comfortable enough, so it won’t look too fancy,” she winked at him. Yes, Pietro is definitely happy he asked her for help. “And Clint favors them as well. Or so I noticed,” she hands him his favorite pair of dark gray sweats. They are a nice cut, bit tight over his hips and ass, but Pietro knows it looks good. Besides, they are pretty damn comfortable.

“Next thing, I’m gonna have to see you in either this or this,” she holds up two of his running shirts. One of them is plain black with silver lining in the same pattern like most of his t-shirts. The other is dark blue with black lining. He tries them both on and lets Natasha decide which one makes his chest looks better. The dark blue wins.

“So what exactly should I do?” Pietro asks when he’s all dressed up.

“I had the honor to pick the movie tonight,” she says. “And let me tell you one thing. I hate horror movies. I absolutely despise them,” she has a serious look on her face. “But they also make some good laughing material, so whatever,” she shrugs nonchalantly. It was her way of saying “I fucking love horror movies, but nobody is ever getting me to admit it, not even you”. Pietro was more than okay with it. “So I chose this stupid horror that’s considered rather scary. But I don’t really think that the rest of people here will find it frightening.”

“So what is the point of watching a creepy film if it’s not creepy enough?” Pietro asks even though he sees where it’s coming.

“I thought that it might be a good idea for you to play the scared damsel in distress. And maybe, by a total accident, sit next to Clint,” she cackles. “And maybe you might, just by an accident, of course, wear that spicy perfume you sometimes put on. I think I’ve heart Barton saying he likes it,” she winks at him and Pietro can’t stop when he rushes to hug her.

“You are literally the best, thank you,” he says to her hair.

“You’re welcome,” she reciprocates the hug. “But you should tell your sister as well. She deserves to know,” she reminds him. Pietro nods, promising he’s gonna tell her first thing in the morning.

He thinks that she knows anyway and enjoys the show.

“Alright, so join us in the living room in ten minutes?” she looks up at him.

“Be there,” he smiles at her.

“And don’t be nervous, okay? It’s just Barton, he has his head shoved up his ass, it’s nothing special,” it makes Pietro laugh and it helps with his nerves. “Don’t let it throw you off the balance, you got this,” she squeezes his shoulder and gives him one last smile before she leaves his room.

Pietro repeats her words in his head over and over like a mantra, until he believes them. Yes, he can do this. He had done so much worse in the past. Why should he feel nervous about seducing the birdman?

He’s in the living room exactly ten minutes after Natasha left his room. It smells like popcorn and excitement in there.

Thor is sprawled in the center of the long couch, laughing heartily at some joke Tony just made. Pietro stops for a minute just to admire the domestic atmosphere in the room. He loved their evening get-togethers, no matter whether it was a game night, a movie night or just a good old Stark-fashioned party. Being with these people who somehow managed to get under his skin, always made him happy.

“Oh, finally,” Natasha surprises him from behind and firmly grabs his elbow to lead him to his seat.

Their living room is rather spacious, so it could comfortably host all the Avengers plus couple of their closest friends. Like Fury, Coulson or Maria. The room was furnished with a huge sofa, one armchair on the left and a loveseat on the right. The seats were all turned towards the big flat screen, but when it was turned off, the furniture also created a nice conversation pit. It gave a cozy vibe, especially now with the piano being placed in the left upper corner, so anyone could see it expect for the person sitting in the armchair.

“Now, what is it going to be, young man? Popcorn or nachos?” Natasha asks as she pushes him down to the loveseat. He knows she’s doing that only because she is part of a plan and this is her way of saying  _thank you for letting me in on this one._

“Popcorn is fine, thank you,” he returns her smile and shuffles around the loveseat to find a comfy position. He decides he definitely wants to sit on the side further away from the TV, since it seems like it offers a better view at the screen.

He wonders how exactly Natasha will make Clint sit next to him. They rarely sat next to each other during movie nights. Pietro preferred sitting next to his sister and Clint never left Natasha’s side. But he sees how this could possibly work. The room is almost full of people by now. Steve and Thor certainly take up a lot of space on the couch. How could they not with their ridiculously wide shoulders? Pietro thinks it’s quite a sight. Next to Steve is Tony, of course, Pietro isn’t surprised. Like at all. Wanda and Vision sit at the opposite end, leaving a space between them and Thor, presumably for Natasha. The remaining space is occupied by Sam and Rhodey.

For some unknown reason Coulson joins too.

“I won’t be here long, I gotta attend this congress-“ he starts but massive whine of disappointment from all the Avengers cuts him off. “Seriously,” he laughs and takes the armchair. “I’ll leave in an hour, I don’t want to interrupt the atmosphere,” he explains when Steve asks him to join them on the couch.

There is still some space left and Pietro is worried that Clint will find a way to squeeze in there. He’s honest to god scarred that the archer will be so stubborn he won’t even do something as simple as sit next to him. Of course Pietro had no idea what was the man thinking. Or what were his intensions. He missed the big picture, but was hoping he would get one soon.

“Why are you so quiet, Speedy?” Tony asks. He’s always the one to notice his quietness. Pietro knows he means well, it’s how he shows that he cares. Even if it’s fucking annoying at times.

“Just wondered when you realize that your hand on Steve’s thigh isn’t all that subtle,” Pietro shoots back. He has seen Tony caressing and squeezing Steve’s thigh so many times before that he thinks if he catches them one more time, he’s going to be sick.

Surprisingly so, Tony goes silent while everyone else laughs. Steve goes scarlet, which makes Pietro feel bad. But only because he looks up to the Captain and knows the guy doesn’t have a bad bone in him.

It only takes the billionaire two seconds to recover from the initial shock.

“Jealous that your favorite archer doesn’t pay you so much attention?” Tony says smugly.

_That bastard._

“Why do I not pay attention?” it’s Clint. And it’s also Pietro’s turn to blush. He hears all the snickering, but nobody says a thing. Oh great, so they know.

“Sit and eat, Barton, you’re late!” Natasha throws a handful of popcorn at him. Wanda catches each one of the kernels and makes them levitate around Clint for a couple seconds, which makes everyone laugh, especially Tony.

The only free spot on the couch is next to Wanda.

And as if she senses what’s about to happen, she rests her long legs on the fluffy cushion and leans her head in Vision’s lap. Clint doesn’t comment on it, but looks a bit confused as to where he should sit. It hurts a bit, so Pietro quickly looks down at his lap to mask any discomfort.

“I swear to god, Barton. Just sit your ass down next to Maximoff. I still don’t get it why we call you Hawkeye,” Tony rolls his eyes in fake annoyance. Steve tells him something about being nice to his teammates, but Pietro is mostly sure that the billionaire will ignore it.

Clint shrugs it off and walks over to Pietro. The young boy feels his heart beating insanely fast in his chest. He can’t believe how nervous is this whole thing making him. It’s almost uncomfortable and he weights his options. He could get away with running and easily mask it with pretending he was sick or some other bullshit. Or he could just bite the bullet and be a man.  _Do you want the prize? Then get it!_

_‘Why is your heart beating so fast?’_ Wanda’s voice sounds concerned in his head. He gives her a look and smiles to show her he’s okay.

_‘There’s nothing to worry about, Wanda,’_ he tells her in all honesty, just as Clint sits down next to him. Their wide frames and narrow loveseat cause them to touch from their thighs up to their arms. Pietro’s clothes are thin, so he can feel the perfect heat radiating from Clint’s body. It’s grounding in a way that’s familiar to Pietro. It calms his senses and helps him to relax. Wanda must’ve sensed it too, because she full on grins now.

_‘Oh, I see,’_ she mocks.  _‘You have it so bad for Clint,’_ she states and Pietro doesn’t fight her on it.

_‘I thought you already knew?’_

_‘I had my suspicions, but this is by far my most favorite revelation ever, brother,’_ he hears her cackling before her voice disappears from his head.

Pietro shakes his head fondly and turns his head towards the TV. Natasha was now fumbling with the remote control, trying to get the movie to play.

“Want some?” Pietro puts on his usual cocky smile and offers Clint the popcorn Natasha brought him.

“Sure,” Clint looks in his eyes and then grabs a handful of the popcorn.

And really, nobody should blame him when he decides to be a little shit to Clint and tease him some. He leans close to Clint’s ear and makes sure his voice is low and quiet so only Clint can hear him.

“Take it easy with the junk food,” he purrs. “Don’t want me to wear you down during the next practice, do you?” he teases and enjoys the way Clint tenses up next to him. He is so pleased with himself that he’s almost thrown off of his balance when Clint decides to repay the favor.

“Oh really?” it’s breathy and so low it sends Pietro’s mind to filthy places in no time. “It takes a lot more than you think to get me worn out,” he whispers and deliberately brushes his lips against the shell of Pietro’s ear. And there is no way that Clint hadn’t felt the full-body shiver Pietro responded with.

The archer is so satisfied with his handiwork that he looks straight to Pietro’s eyes with confidence that makes Pietro want to whine pathetically. He can’t deny it took him aback. He didn’t expect Clint to flirt with him or be on the same page, at all. But he definitely likes this new game and waits patiently for the next turn.

The movie, as it turns out, is some classical shitty horror thing, which makes most of the Avengers laugh. Well, except for Steve who finds it vulgar and not funny; and the same goes for Vision, who doesn’t understand much of human’s habits yet. Pietro vaguely thinks if watching this genre of film isn’t risky. Considering that most of the people watching it had some sort of PTSD and could be easily triggered.

But when he thinks more about it, it only makes sense. Natasha would never bring up such movie if it posed a real threat to anyone watching it. Besides, the movie seemed to be rather stupid. Even Pietro can see through the cheap effects. They all have a great time watching it. Tony makes some of the lamest jokes and everyone’s dying laughing by then. Even Steve has a faint smile playing on his lips when the billionaire cracks his jokes.

Pietro gets lost in the atmosphere that he almost forgets why he was so nervous about it in the first place.

He has to admit there is one thing that he hates about the film. These idiotic moments of surprise that he always falls victim to. No matter how many times, Pietro never learns and gets jump scared again and again. His body always jerks in surprise and Clint finds it amusing. He always looks at Pietro with that mischievous look in his eyes.

There’s one particular scene that is more violent and disgusting than the previous. It’s disturbing in a way that makes Pietro hide his face in his hands. He’s definitely not proud of that moment, but it’s still better than seeing that stuff.

“Hey, are you alright?” Clint speaks softly to him and brushes his hair away from his shielded eyes. Pietro can only nod, not trusting his voice completely.

There is too much happening in his head. That scene didn’t trigger him, not really. But it reminded him of some of that ugly stuff he had seen over the years that he needn’t to be reminded of. And the way Clint was touching him… it brought a nice, soothing contrast to the whole thing and Pietro couldn’t trust himself to speak. Not yet.

“You can look, it’s gone,” the archers whispers, still caressing his hair.

It’s familiar and it feels like safety.

Pietro relaxes and takes his hands away from his eyes. He sees the worried look on Clint’s face. It creates this funny crease between his eyebrows and it tempts Pietro to reach out and smooth it out with his fingers. But he looks down at his lap instead and snuggles closer to the archer. He rests his head on his shoulder, left hand draped over Clint’s chest. It’s a possessive gesture, he realizes when he sees his own hand splayed over Clint’s right pec. Right over the place where his heartbeat was the strongest.

And Clint doesn’t push him away. He sets aside the empty popcorn bowl and wraps his right arm around Pietro’s waist. The blond lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wiggles in his seat so he’s more comfortable next to the archer. It feels so good Pietro is sure Clint can hear him purr.

There are occasional remarks from Tony and Natasha about the stupidity of the deaths and ridiculous amounts of blood. Their never-ending commentary makes it bearable for Pietro. The following scenes aren’t as brutal, but hearing other people laughing helps. It distracts him enough from the screen to concentrate on their presence. It grounds him in a way that reminds him of where he is and how real it all is.

He still makes the excuses to hide his face in Clint’s neck. If it’s only because he loves how Clint’s squeezes his hip and holds him closer, it’s anyone’s business. The protection and safety it gives him almost melts his whole being.

The next time he chooses to hide his face in Clint’s neck he realizes how nice he smells. The soft wool of his worn-out hoodie is better than any pillow in the Avengers HQ, Pietro thinks. He allows himself to close his eyes. Just for a bit. Just for a moment.  _I swear._

The tiredness of the past week catches up with the young man and makes his eyelids heavy.

It’s the combination of warmth that radiates from Clint; the physical presence of his friends and those strong arms around him that lull Pietro to sleep.

Distantly, Pietro thinks he had never felt this relaxed in his life. And for the first time in years, there are some actual dreams that don’t leave him haunted when he wakes up. He is so happy in that little world. Feeling cozy and just  _right_ that he wants to stay there forever.

But it’s right there and then when Clint decides it’s wake-up time.

“Pietro,” he speaks to him softly. He pets his hair in that delicate manner Pietro loves. The younger man slowly gains his consciousness back, but it takes Clint a whole minute to do so.

“Five more minutes,” he pleads, feeling so warm and boneless that everything in his body screams at him to go back to sleep. He is practically draped over, like if he’s an oversized pillow.

“It’s killing my back,” Clint laughs, presumably at Pietro’s laziness.

It takes Pietro another minute until his senses are alert again. He doesn’t hear anyone else being around. Even the room has gone dark, save for the lone lamp at the far end of the living room.

“Where is everyone?” Pietro asks, not bothering to move an inch.

“They left to bed, Captain’s orders,” Clint says and there’s definitely a smile in his voice. He hasn’t taken his hand out of Pietro’s hair yet and it sends pleasant shivers down his spine. “We should probably go too,” it’s spoken so softly Pietro almost misses it.

“I can’t… my bed, I.. it.. there’s this…” Pietro sighs in frustration and hides his face further into Clint’s neck.

“What is it?” the archer asks. He doesn’t push the subject, just waits patiently for Pietro’s response.

There’s about million things going on in Pietro’s head. The way he feels when he’s with Clint is so calming and it comes to him like a second nature. He’s scared he’ll ruin the domestic moment by talking about his nightmares. But they are the ones that caused this in the first place, right? If it wasn’t for them, he wouldn’t have walked in on Clint getting drunk while playing piano. And even if Clint doesn’t remember it at all, Pietro knows that the feelings are still there. Nothing about them was ever fake. And the longer he is pressed up against the solid heat of Clint’s body, the more he realizes how all those confusing feelings start to make sense. The fury he would experience during his trainings with Clint, the clenching feeling in his guts when they were out there fighting and he couldn’t get his eyes on the archer – this and a lot more. All the negative feelings were just a mask and another way how to suppress his own needs and desires.

But he isn’t going to run from it anymore.

“It’s… I have nightmares,” Pietro starts in a quiet voice. He is far from relaxed now, the tension is back in his muscles. “I'd have them since I’d lost my parents,” he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. The smell of Clint’s perfume weirdly grounds him.

“But after Sokovia,” he pauses. “I can barely sleep. The nightmares are getting worse… and I can’t take it,” the last words are almost inaudible, but Clint catches them, even if he has to fill one or two words in.

“I know how that feels,” Clint tells him, after he’s silent for a while. He gently pushes Pietro from his chest, but never takes his hands off of his body. He leaves his left hand on his neck and the other on Pietro’s bicep. “I can help you, Pietro,” he looks straight into his eyes. They are the weirdest shade of blue Pietro has ever seen. So beautiful.

“I just want to sleep… I’m so fucking tired,” he almost sobs at that. The frustration of the whole week is piled up inside of him and slowly bubbles up to the surface.

Pietro’s frustration tolerance is low. His sleep deprivation has reached the point where he’s sure that anything could set him off. He is just so desperate to have a good night sleep once in his life.

There’s that warm hand on his neck that reminds him where he is. Safety.

Clint rubs his thumb over Pietro’s jawline. He makes small circles that are supposed to help the younger man relax. Pietro likes the way Clint’s calloused fingers feel against his stubble. The movement causes him to part his lips ever so slightly.

“Is there anything that helps you to sleep better?” Clint asks and continues to stroke his thumb over the dark stubble.

“Y-ou,” Pietro stutters.

He looks up, shy that the archer would disapprove. But he has that neutral expression on his face again.

“When I fell asleep on you, it was good. No nightmares,” he admits. There is a brief pause that leaves Pietro panicking.

“We can do this,” Clint suddenly smiles. The words are spoken so cheerily that they give Pietro hope, although he has no idea why. Nothing really makes sense to him anymore.

“Do what?” he asks in confusion.

“If sleeping next to other person helps you, I can do this,” Clint looks directly at his eyes. “But of course only if you are comfortable with it,” the archer adds quickly. He avoids his gaze for a split second and bites down on his lip. It has to take a lot of self-control to not fidget, Pietro thinks. He can see how uncomfortable Clint is, so he spares him the waiting.

“I’d like that,” Pietro says and gives Clint a small smile.

“Alright, so let’s go. It’s pretty late anyway,” he gets up and offers Pietro a hand to help him stand up.

Pietro wavers a little, almost tripping over his own feet. But Clint is there, catching him in the right moment.

“Careful,” he laughs.

They walk to Clint’s room and the archer doesn’t take his arm off of Pietro’s waist, just to make sure the boy is okay. Pietro wants to feel offended, his pride tells him it’s degrading to be viewed as the weak one. But he’s too tired to give a damn. After all, he loves the solid weight on the small of his back. So he sucks it up and lets Clint lead the way.

Clint’s room isn’t messy, which is the first thing Pietro notices. He had kind of expected the archer to have a messy room. But he seems to be keeping it all together. Unlike him.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Clint asks in a quiet voice as he begins to strip out of his clothes.

Pietro might be fucking exhausted, but he can still see, okay? And what he sees is far from what he signed up for. Or what he expected, for that matter.

Clint is ripped.

In all the good ways. He doesn’t have the insane physique of Thor, but his body still puts on quite a show. He strips down to just his boxers and then puts on an oversized sleeping t-shirt with some writing on it.

“Pietro?” Clint looks amused as he steps closer to him.

“Y-yeah?” the boy shakes his head quickly and focuses on Clint’s eyes.  _Keep it on his face, keep it on his eyes._

“I asked you,” Clint steps closer with a smirk on his lips. “Do you want to shower before bed?” he lowers his voice just a notch and looks to Pietro’s eyes with a playful dare. The younger man licks his lips before he answers.

“I’m good,” it’s lame. But probably the best socially acceptable response he has. And it makes Clint laugh, so it can’t be that bad either.

“Okay, okay,” he steps aside and walks over to the dresser. “I can land you some t-shirt, if you want? I don’t suppose that your running outfit is comfortable for sleeping,” he searches through his drawer for a while until he finally finds a shirt he thinks would fit Pietro’s frame.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Pietro rushes to answer, so he doesn’t make a fool of himself again. “These clothes really aren’t that comfortable,” he agrees with Clint.

“But they sure as hell look good on you,” Clint winks at him and why.  _Why you do this, Barton?_

Pietro blushes and takes the offered t-shirt from Clint’s hand. He manages to change with half his super speed, still feeling shy and awkward without his clothes to protect him.

“Which side of the bed?” Clint asks as they are finally about to get to sleep.

“Uh, I don’t know?” Pietro looks up at him. “I’ve never thought about it,” he shrugs.

“That’s okay,” Clint walks over to the bad and takes the side that is closer to the door. He gets under the covers and makes himself comfortable, before he notices that Pietro is still shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“Come on, it’s alright,” he speaks up and lifts up the covers next to him. “You don’t have to be shy, there’s nothing bad about this,” he assures Pietro. The younger man listens to his voice and realizes it helps. “It’s just something to help you sleep, nothing sexual,” yes, Pietro knows that. But hearing it again makes helps him remember that yes, this isn’t about sex. This isn’t a drunken hook-up. Just two friends, helping each other to sleep better.

Pietro takes a deep breath in and cuts the short distance to the bed. He slides under the cold covers that soon turn warm around his body.

Clint turns off the lamp on his bedside table with one last look to the younger man.

They lay in complete darkness and it’s unnerving. The silence is interrupted only with the sounds of ruffling fabric and their own breaths. It makes Pietro feel uneasy.

He starts fidgeting and tries to make himself comfortable enough to fall asleep. He tosses and turns in the bed, but nothing seems satisfying enough. He keeps tumbling around until a pair of strong hands wrap around his middle and they push him close to another body. Pietro sighs in relief. Feeling the solid muscles behind his back makes him relax instantly. The warmth spreading through his body is intoxicating and he whines in delight.

Clint senses his comfort and slowly starts to caress the exposed bits of skin he can reach. It’s so fleeting and gentle. He can feel Clint’s breath on the back of his neck and when he concentrates enough, he swears he can feel his heartbeat, too.

“That’s it,” Clint whispers. “I’m here with you, you can relax,” it’s a low murmur behind his ear. The way it sends smalls vibrations down his spine makes him shiver in pleasure.

He places his hand over Clint’s that is on his stomach and entwines their fingers. It’s almost like they were made for this. The touch feels so right it makes Pietro smile.

“Thank you,” he says to Clint right before he starts drifting off.

And before he falls unconscious, there’s a pair of hot lips on the back of his neck and a quiet “Anything for you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Offer still stands - you can talk to me on my tumblr or let me know here in the comments what do you think. Kudos are also welcomed :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I suck at deadlines. Please forgive me?  
> But I also want to thank all of your for all these awesome comments and support! Thank you so much, you guys keep me going! <3

The dreams that follow are nice.

They are impressions, rather than actual dreams. But they feel good.

There’s a lot of light in them, unlike all the other dreams he had before – no monsters or haunting darkness. Pietro remembers a sandy beach and white clouds laced with the smell of cinnamon. For some reason he was looking at everything through a thick layer of glass. It made the picture grotesque and crooked. But not any less beautiful. It didn’t make any sense in that way dreams usually did, almost as if Pietro’s mind couldn’t remember how to produce normal dreams anymore.

He’s woken up by the late sunrise. The sunlight is sharp and intense, shining right into Pietro’s eyes. He tries to hide his face, so he buries himself closer to the solid heat next to him. Wait.

_Where am I?_

_What did I do last night?_

_Who is this?_

He starts to panic, but stays still. Just in case there’s a danger he should be mindful of.

He completely blacked out on all the important details of the last night. All because the dreams were so nice and the bed so soft that he let himself forget everything else. It took him a solid minute before the memories started flowing back.

The movie, yes, some horror. Natasha sat him next to Clint and it made him nervous. There is a tiny smile on his lips when he remembers how he ended up asleep atop of him. And then Clint offered him to spend the night with him.

Pietro knows he might’ve abused his powers in that very moment. Because he knew something Clint didn’t.

He remembered how Clint spilled his half-assed secrets and kissed his neck with passion. So when Pietro knew that there was some kind of attraction on Clint’s behalf, it was easy to act out on it. He had that much working for him when he considered joining the man in his bed.

But what about the archer? He admitted, even though it was a drunken confession, that he felt guilty thinking about Pietro. He couldn’t have possibly known that Pietro had some confused feelings for him as well. Or could he? What if Natasha talked to him and dropped a few hints in the process? Pietro realized that Clint was a pro at concealing his feelings. So even if he knew, there was no way Pietro would be able to tell.

So why the man volunteered to take Pietro in? Why he didn’t make any pass at him either? It all lead Pietro to the conclusion that the archer did it in a good belief. Nothing more than an act of friendliness.

Too bad Pietro knew how baldy Clint wanted him.

And if the idiot hadn’t gotten drunk, he would probably end up pinning after Pietro for God knows how long. Years probably, with his idiotic stubbornness.

What is it they say? All the bad is good for something? Pietro couldn’t agree more.

It was hard to resist Clint’s offer when his own curiosity has been nagging him ever since Clint had first laid his hands on him. And just days ago, when he started doubting his own attitude and felt lost, he doubted he’d ever come to a conclusion. Yet here he was, radiating happiness next to Clint.

Pietro relaxes next to him and sighs. Yes, he can sleep for five more minutes. He makes himself more comfortable on Clint’s chest and tries to chase his dreams for a little longer.

He dozes off in seconds. With the bed being so warm and soft it’s not exactly a hardship. It feels like he sleeps for hours. It’s easy to underestimate the time when dreams know no such thing. When Pietro wakes up again, it’s because he feels the archer moving next to him.

First thing Pietro notices is that Clint is playing with his hair. Traces patterns on his left arm. Pietro smiles sleepily and nuzzles closer to Clint’s neck.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs and places a small kiss under Clint’s ear. The archer chuckles over him and Pietro can feel all the delightful vibrations where their chests are touching. _So he’s not mad when I kiss him._

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” the archer teases in return.

It’s supposed to be their usual light-hearted banter, but it just doesn’t have the same effect.

Clint continues to play with his hair and Pietro is perfectly content to stay like that forever. He’s sure that Clint has figured the change in the mood already, because he’s oddly silent. And he is never silent in the morning.

The quiet stretches between them for minutes. But it’s a nice kind of silence. The one that helped Pietro relax instead of making him nervous. That was new. He could lay still, pressed to another person and be calm. No awkward moments or out-of-place feelings. There was light buzzing energy underneath Pietro’s skin that tingled all over his body. It was good, positive even. It meant that he rested so well that his body was able to create this electricity-like energy. Something he only experienced once in his life.

And even though he stored plenty of energy overnight, he had no desire to get up and burn it. That could wait. There were more prominent things to deal with.

Like that certain archer who was running his fingers up and down his back.

Pietro lets out a pleased sigh and closes his eyes. It’s a response he can’t hold back when he’s around Clint. It’s the way the older man makes him feel. There are tiny jolts of pleasure bolting from the places where Clint touches him and they make Pietro helpless with want.

Yes, he definitely wants more of that.

“Do… do that again, please,” he pleads quietly when Clint stops his hands at his lower back.

He doesn’t dare to open his eyes. He doesn’t trust them, knowing very well that if he opened them and looked at Clint’s eyes, he would be fucked.

“Like this?” the archer speaks up in a husky voice and runs his fingers up Pietro’s back.

So, so slowly it’s almost painful. This time around, he uses his nails. They scrape bluntly over the cotton t-shirt Pietro wore to bed last night. He can’t help the shiver that rips through his body and he moans to the skin of Clint’s neck.

“God, kid, you’re sensitive,” he says with a smile in his voice.

“You have no idea,” Pietro whispers into Clint’s ear. Lets his lips brush over the sensitive skin there.

He’s not sure whether he’s pushing his luck. But it’s only fair to repay Clint his generosity, right?

The blond sneaks his own hand under Clint’s shirt. He starts low, just splays his hand wide over his defined stomach and allows himself feel the scorching skin beneath.

“Pietro wait,” Clint holds his wrist firmly in his hand.

The interruption makes Pietro look at Clint’s eyes for the first time since this morning. He is scared he had done something wrong. That maybe he’s crossed a line the archer drew a long time ago. There’s panic spreading through his system like a toxic venom. _Has he been too eager?_

“Before we do anything, I think we should talk,” he says it with authoritative undertone he only uses on Pietro when he’s serious about his next words.

“Talk?” Pietro swallows and doesn’t dare to think what there is to talk about.

Yeah, maybe save for the little detail that Pietro knows Clint has feelings for him, because he confessed some of them when he was drunk? And Clint probably has no idea why all of sudden Pietro is more than happy to share the same bed with him.

“About us. About this thing between us we never talk about,” Clint flips them around, so he’s hovering right over the younger boy.

Pietro absolutely hates to admit that Clint’s manhandling just turned him on more than it should have. And considering there will be many training hours ahead of him, he better start practicing how to hide the semi in his skin tight pants.

So now Clint’s towering over him and looks deep in Pietro’s eyes, hands placed on either side of the blond’s head. There is about million things Pietro wants right now and talking is not one of them (unless it’s dirty, of course).

“Talking is stupid,” Pietro says in that cocky way he knows drives Clint mad. He runs his hands under Clint’s shirt on purpose and feels up the muscled torso. He watches with delight how Clint fights the primal urge to just give in and take.

“We’ll see about that later,” Clint promises with a smug grin.

He’s about to do something.

Pietro is not wrong. The second the thought leaves his mind Clint cups his face with his hand and leans closer. Pietro holds his gaze, well aware of how close they are and what’s about to happen.

He runs his right hand through Clint’s tousled hair for purchase, searching for an anchor that would steady him for the moments to come. It’s tormenting – the way Clint moves seems like a slow motion to the younger man. But he waits patiently for his prize.

Clint gently tilts his head and brushes his thumb over Pietro’s stubbly jawline. The indirect orders he receives are grounding. _Stay still and let me do the work._ It’s something Pietro knows how to do. After all, Clint had taught him well.

He closes his eyes on instinct when Clint is too close to his face. He can feel his breath ghost over his cheek. Clint teases him. Waits a beat before he presses his lips to Pietro’s. The initial touch is fleeting and Pietro has to chase it to make sure it’s really there. He meets Clint’s lips hallway up in a hard kiss. Too awkward and uncoordinated, but Pietro still thinks it’s perfect. Even if they both have morning breath and Pietro is sure he just felt Clint’s semi on his thigh. He wouldn’t trade it for shit.

“Was this enough for a bribe?” Clint says in a quiet tone when he looks back at Pietro.

There is a faint hint of smile tugging at his lips. _So a game, it is._

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Pietro puts on a thoughtful face. “I think you’ll need to step it up a bit,” he fakes the seriousness in his voice. “You know, if you want me to talk,” he licks his lips, well aware that Clint’s eyes are fixed on them.

When he’s sure Clint’s got the idea, he pulls him in for another searing kiss. He loves how Clint’s lips feel against his own. It’s like puzzle pieces clicking together. Sloppy, yes, but so good. Pietro is just about to test Clint’s limits and bite his lower lip, see if Clint would like it or not.

“Sir, I am afraid that Captain Rogers requires your immediate presence,” Jarvis announced.

And normally, Pietro is fond of the AI that is present in almost every room of their headquarters. But right now? He would murder him if he could. On top of him, Clint groans in frustration and buries his face in the pillow next to Pietro.

“God damn!” the archer curses.

“He requires Mr. Maximoff as well,” Jarvis adds and it’s Pietro’s turn to groan.

“Thanks Jarvis, we’ll be there in a minute,” Clint tells the AI and rolls on his back next to the blond.

“Seems like we’re done talking,” Pietro muses and lays on his side so he can watch Clint closely.

“Don’t sass me, young man,” Clint scrunches his eyebrows. Pietro can tell he’s not mad at all. Not when there’s smile reaching his eyes.

“I would never!” Pietro gasps in fake awe and it makes Clint laugh.

It’s so honest it warms Pietro’s heart.

“We should get going, though, maybe it’s an emergency,” Clint says and gets off the bed. Always the reasonable one, Pietro thinks.

He watches the archer get ready in a hurry and enjoys the view in front of him. If Clint notices the intense stare, he doesn’t comment on it for the sake of leaving the room as soon as possible. Pietro, like always, leaves everything to the last possible second. He changes his clothes in a blink and manages to run to his room to brush his teeth and do something about his messed hair. He knows that Steve is the one to pick up on small details. He doesn’t need to tick him off, just yet.

Pietro walks to Steve’s office exactly twenty two seconds after Clint. He supposes this way it’s less suspicious.

“Good morning,” Steve welcomes them and gestures towards the chairs in front of his desks. “Sorry I had to wake you up this early, but this is something I don’t want to underestimate,” the Captain looks concerned, which is enough of a bad sign for Pietro.

There was a good reason why Steve was their leader. Pietro trusted his instincts – if Steve says there is something, there probably is something.

“What do we have?” Clint asks.

“Probably an underground HYDRA base near the Rocky mountains,” Steve sighs. “We aren’t sure, though. Scans show there is a system of corridors and rooms under the surface. But we couldn’t pick up any signal or magnetic field. Anything,” Steve looks at both of them and Pietro can see he’s dead serious. “The last agents to return from mission said they had found the possible entrance, but reported they never saw any people going in or out.”

“Might be a decoy,” Clint reasons.

“It’s either a decoy or the facility is long abandoned,” Steve nods. “Stark and I checked with Rhodey and some military officers who know most of the military bases around the U.S. They all agreed that it’s not theirs and they have no clue what it might be,” Steve takes a file from his desk and hands it to Clint. “Best if you read it on the quinjet, so you don’t waste your time,” Steve looks at him and Clint sharply nods.

“I’m on it,” the archer stands up and so does Pietro. What he just heard is probably enough. If they are in trouble, he can always outrun their enemies and try to save the day.

“Wait, not you, Pietro. I have something else for you,” Steve beckons for him to sit back down.

His face falters visibly. He was excited at first, that this would be yet another great mission he could spend with Clint. Despite their ever present banters, they worked surprisingly well on the field. So why did Captain decide today it’s not that day?

“Wanda and Sam will join you on the board of the quinjet in twenty minutes. You are free to go,” he dismisses Clint.

“Be there, sir,” Clint half-salutes to the Captain and with a one final look at Pietro disappears in the door.

“So what is it I’m supposed to do?” Pietro is on the edge by now.

He’s not good to go with Clint, but Steve still insisted he has some other job for him. He understands why Steve decided to put his sister on the mission, rather than him. She adapted well. To the new environment, new people, even all the strange American customs. She was progressively getting better at her trainings, too. It makes him proud of his sister. She is a good Avenger.

Pietro can only guess what it is. And he hopes it’s not another going-out-searching-for-my-unfrozen-boyfriend again. Not that he minds working with Steve or exploring new parts of America. But every time they catch a trail of the ex-assassin, they soon find out that it’s already cold. The Winter Soldier is almost too good at his own game and it frustrates Pietro. They are never fast enough or clever enough to outsmart the guy. He understands the grief Steve carries around inside his heart and the will to bring his close friend back. But sometimes he doubts they will ever be able to reach him.

“Fury’s old contact gave us a tip that could possibly lead us to other HYDRA bases, both in America and Europe,” Steve says and looks directly into Pietro’s eyes. He knows that Steve is looking for something in there. Whether it’s a courage or fear, he doesn’t know.

“And you want me to ask them what they know?” Pietro has never done this kind of mission that requires so much patience. And to think that Steve wants him on such mission is the best kind of praise he could ever receive from him.

“I want you to find that contact. Natasha will go with you, she has her own interrogation techniques,” the corners of Steve’s mouth twitch as he fights the smirk. He must’ve remembered something funny, Pietro thinks. “The only problem here should be that the man lives in some god forsaken village on Russian borders,” Steve rubs his face and takes out another file. “This is all Fury has on that guy, we aren’t even sure how he looks.”

“And you trust this? What if it’s a trap?” Pietro can’t resist the feeling that Steve isn’t sure about this either.

“Fury was pretty adamant that we at least check this up,” Steve says and looks at his desk. It’s awfully clean and in order. He re-arranges his pens before he speaks again. “He said that it might be a dead end, but we both agreed that we should check it. The guy claims he knows the exact locations of some of the HYDRA facilities.”

“And he does it just like that, because he’s a nice guy?” Pietro doesn’t believe that bullshit.

“Of course not,” Steve looks back at him. “He wants to get to the States, green card and all that.”

“Thought so,” Pietro sighs and rubs his chin. “So what if he’s a liar? Do we just go back here?”

“Pretty much. We’ll be in contact, though,” Steve says as he hands Pietro the said file. “You have twenty minutes to pack your things. Natasha will meet you by the quinjet. You can read the file on the plane. There is a cover story to go with as well. You will need to memorize it,” Steve has a stern look on his face again, to which Pietro finds himself nodding.

“I’m on it.”

“Great. You’re dismissed. Good luck on your mission,” he gives him a tiny smile and it’s all Pietro needs to flee from the room to get his things.

He was so excited about his new mission that everything else went straight over his head. He just barely managed to say goodbye to his sister. She was too busy with Vision seeing her off anyway. Pietro had his own suspicions what’s going on between them. He promised Wanda he would be careful and insisted that she does the same.

They didn’t spend so much time together in the past week. It was a matter of circumstances that neither Pietro nor Wanda could predict. It wouldn’t be their first time spending weeks apart since they became Avengers. They got this. Even if Pietro found it hard to cope with when he couldn’t see his sister every day and make sure she’s okay. But he trusted Clint. Wanda was in good hands with him.

“Ready to go?” Natasha’s voice brings him back to reality.

He’s already standing in front of the quinjet. His packed stuff in one hand and case file in the other.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Pietro winks at her.

They board on with their stuff and Natasha sits in the pilot’s seat. Pietro takes the seat next to her as a co-pilot, even though he only got a basic lessons in piloting. Tony hasn’t been exactly a patient teacher and the same would go for Pietro.

“We’re gonna fly for about five hours. Four, if the weather is good,” Natasha announces. “You can rest in the back, I got this,” she smiles at him just as the person from control tower allows their take off.

“Actually, I don’t feel like sleeping,” he tells her.

There is a grin on her lips that Pietro sees from the corner of his eye.

“Is that so?” she has to know something. It’s clear in her voice.

“Yeah, I had a good sleep tonight, you know?” he knows she’ll be able to hear the smile in his voice. And he doesn’t try to hide it from her. If it wasn’t for Natasha, he wouldn’t be so damn smug in the first place.

She smacks his arm and looks at him with disbelief.

“So it worked!” she says excitedly. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pietro surrenders with a laugh. “It was nice,” he tells her. “Except that nothing really happened?”

Pietro looks at Natasha with a bit scarred look. He’s not exactly sure what her reaction is going to be. And he doesn’t want her to thin that her plan failed. Because it didn’t, even if the outcome was different from what they expected.

“But you are happy, aren’t you?” she frowns a little and looks at Pietro, searching his face.

“Yes,” he smiles.

He sees the kind smile on Natasha’s face. She doesn’t give any further comments on it. Pietro knows exactly why, he had learned the trick long ago. Being silent is usually so unnerving to most people that they cave in and spill their beans. And he knows it could be either Natasha digging some juicy details from him or genuinely concentrating on piloting the quinjet.

Well, Pietro doesn’t really care for what it is. They are friends and he would tell her eventually. Just like he will tell Wanda once they return back to the facility.

“After you all walked off, he woke me up,” Pietro begun. “And when I told him I couldn’t sleep in my bed because of the nightmares I have, he offered to let me stay with him through the night,” he sees Natasha smiling the whole time and he can’t resist his own happiness showing.

“Just spent the night in his bed? Is Barton really that kind?” Natasha teased.

“I bet he would’ve made me breakfast if we weren’t interrupted by this whole thing,” Pietro tells her with a chuckle.

“Don’t want to shoot you off your pink cloud or anything, but I’m gonna give you heads up that Barton sucks at cooking.”

“Shit,” Pietro laughs. “And here I was thinking I’d be the one being spoiled.”

“Seems like you will have to do the spoiling,” she shrugged and flipped a couple of switches over her head.

She looked so perfect and composed like that, Pietro thought. And he definitely loved her kind of teasing as it was very similar to Clint’s. It was like a part of the archer was still with him.

“I still think he needs some time to process it. And I guess I’d use the time too,” he starts off slow. “It’s been what? Couple days, yes? It’s all happening so fast,” he sighs.

“When it’s fast even for you, then I can’t imagine what it’s like for Clint,” she looks briefly over at him. There is a hint of concern on her face.

Her first concerns will always go to Clint, Pietro knows. But he also realizes that she cares for both of them.

“I have a feeling that we’ll manage,” he says before he unbuckles his seat belts and goes look for the file Steve gave them.

“Are you familiar with our cover story?” Pietro asks her just as he sits back next to her.

“A bit,” she says. “But I could use hearing it again.”

Pietro looks in the papers stacked inside and reads what Steve put in there. It’s some vague run-down of the guy they are supposed to meet. A Caucasian male in his forties, ex-soldier of Russian army. Lives alone in a small village in the Ural Mountains. Nothing really worth reading. Their cover story is, by far, much more interesting.

“We are supposed to be a couple?” it’s amusing. This will be fun.

“What? Are you scared we won’t be able to pull that off?” she asks. “Or is it your commitment with Barton?” she teases.

“Nah, we’ll be the sweetest couple these rednecks has ever seen,” Pietro laughs. He decides to ignore her remark about Clint. He misses him already.

“So it looks that we are both Russians who moved to the U.S. and now we’re looking forward to spend some quality time in our homeland,” he examines the file closer.

Their story had a great potential. Natasha was born in Russia, so she obviously knew the language and folklore, she would click in any time. Pietro, on the other hand, was born in Sokovia. He learned Russian at school, however and it was very similar to Sokovian anyway. The facts about Russia were a little more troublesome, since he didn’t know them as well as Natasha. But considering how similar their countries were, what could possibly go wrong?

The flight over to the Urals is short. Pietro is too occupied with memorizing their story and getting it perfect. He knows that the people in the village will be nosy. Hungry for some thrilling stuff they could gossip over their vodka or meals. Pietro didn’t care, he remembered what it was like growing up in a small place like that. You could never hide anything for too long. And God forbid if your parents knew about your fuck ups before you managed to get home – worst possible scenario.

Couple minutes later Natasha found a good landing spot for them to safely touch down their quinjet. She had the smoothest landing of all the Avengers. Well, maybe except Tony, but engineers weren’t counting.

“Get your stuff, we’re gonna walk for a while,” Natasha said.

“How far?” Pietro could bet you it’d be miles. But these were the safety measures they had to take.

“About ten miles. I got us some less suspicious garments,” she winks at him and fishes out two framed backpacks and hiking boots. She hands him a paper bag from some fashion store filled with clothes. There are some sports clothes and matching flannel shirts that still got the labels on them.

“Wow, how did you manage to get all this stuff so fast?” not even Pietro would be able to do so much shopping in the twenty minutes Steve gave them to get ready.

“I knew we might be sent on this mission for a while, so I made some preparations in advance,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “And just in case we wouldn’t I left the labels on,” she explained. “But now that we’re here, feel free to cut them off, honey,” she gave him her sweetest smile and handed Pietro a small knife she kept in her boot.

“Wow, I think I already love you, Anna,” he took the knife from her and cut off all the annoying price tags.

“Same goes for you, Alexander,” she kisses his cheek.

It feels weird when she does that, but at the same time it’s perfectly normal. A little more affectionate from their usual time spent together, but it’s no less comfortable. Maybe except for the awful names. Did they really have to make him Alexander, though? Now everyone they meet will call him Sasha. And God does Pietro hate that name.

When they change their clothes and are ready to leave, Natasha turns on the invisible shield that protects their quinjet. Tony advanced his technology, so nobody else should be able to find the plane, only them. Pietro hopes it won’t get lost the same way that doctor Banner did.

“How long do you think this will take?” Pietro asks as he adjusts the straps of his backpack.

“Couple days probably. But three days is minimum to make our story trustworthy,” she points the direction they will be heading while she talks.

 _Three days, huh._ Pietro is not sure how his patience will deal with that. Or his nightmares. The fact that he misses Clint already doesn’t help either.

“We should probably practice our Russian and some sweet talk,” Natasha interrupts his thoughts.

Pietro agrees with her. She’s right, they need to sell their story. The old ladies in villages might be kind and nice, but they have eyesight sharper than Hawkeye and nothing will go unnoticed. So they spend their walk talking in Russian and getting used to it. Pietro originally wanted to run there and carry Nat in his arms, but she insisted this would be better.

“We look like a pair of lumberjacks,” Pietro comments on their looks when they stop by some tiny spring to rest.

“We look hot, mind you. Maybe a little lumberjack-y, but hot,” she argues and smacks Pietro’s arm.

“I like women who can handle their wood,” Pietro crack a joke that lands him a serious disapproving look. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude. It’s the flannel speaking,” he gestures wildly towards his red plaid over shirt.

“Now I understand what Barton sees in you,” she shakes her head fondly and gathers her things back up.

They walk for another hour before they finally hit their destination. It’s a nice place hidden in a valley. Most of the buildings are made of wood and they all look like they have seen better times. Their walls are crooked, worn out with years of wind and rain. The golden shades of wood had gone dark, almost black over the years; others are bleached by sun into various shades of grey.

“Oh, I almost forgot… put this on,” Natasha subtly pushes something small into his hand. They are still far enough from the village for the people there to notice it.

It’s a golden ring. A really nice golden ring.

It sits perfectly on Pietro’s ring finger and it looks good, too. He never considered he would ever wear one of these and enjoy it. It wasn’t a threat whatsoever, so Pietro was more than okay with it.

As they inched closer to the village, Pietro could see people gathering in small groups and talking. Some would stop in their walk and stare for a bit before continuing in their activity. It wasn’t hostile behavior. People were curious, they always were. And Pietro was the last one to judge them since he’s been nominated the most inquisitive Avenger since he joined the team.

But the people in the village are actually very nice. More than they anticipated.

»Здравствуйте!« _Welcome,_ an old lady greets them with wide, toothless smile. »Могу я чем-нибудь помочь?« _How can I help you?_ she said and looked expectantly at both of them.

She had really thick glasses on her nose and a colorful scarf wrapped around her head. She was crouching on a wooden cane she had in left hand. Pietro didn’t dare to guess her age, because you never knew with these people. They could be either super ancient or quite young. Well, younger than you’d expect.

Natasha smiled at her and greeted back. She had to poke Pietro in ribs to remind him it’s polite to say hello too.

»Мой муж и я путешествуем по России. И мы ищем какое-то место, чтобы остаться,«  _My husband and I are travelling through Russia. And we’re looking for some place to stay,_ Natasha says to her.

The old lady, Olga, as it turns out, offers them to stay at her home. She had an extra room after her son moved out and she’d be happy to fill it for a couple days. They wanted to pay her, but she was adamant and refused their money. The only thing she wanted in return was that they help her around the house, because she is old and some things are difficult for her to do.

Pietro hated how he rooted for the old lady. But she was so sweet to them!

They asked her, where they could find some kind of entertainment in the village. A pub or some other place where people gathered during evenings. She pointed them to a place that could resemble something like a bar. They served vodka and beer. Natasha hoped that their contact would be there. Information travelled fast and there was no way he would mistake two sudden strangers in the middle of nowhere for tourists.

As they walked to the other side of the village, Natasha softly spoke to him so it looked like some sweet-talk newlyweds do.

“If anything goes down, stay calm and let me do the talking, ok? If it fails, you know our back-up plan,” she whispers.

“Got it,” Pietro nods and kisses the top of her head.

As it turns out, their contact was indeed waiting there. It was a gruffly looking man with long black hair and beard. He looked like a hobo, if you asked Pietro, but then again – people around here couldn’t afford to be picky about their clothes.

The man slid them a piece of paper with coordinates and time. He didn’t bother to look at them or talk at all.

When they were about to return to their accommodation, Natasha dragged Pietro aside to Olga’s garden. The night was pitch black. How could it be not when the place wasn’t even electrified? Pietro noticed the stars above their heads. They were stunning. He wanted Clint to see them, too.

“We need to go through the strategy for tomorrow,” Natasha lowered her voice.

“Do you think it’s a trap?”

“We don’t know what this guy is capable of, so we better be careful,” she took his hand and led him further into the old garden. There was a wooden bench underneath one of the trees.

“I can always carry you and run from the danger,” he offered. There was a brief pause between them.

They talked for at least another hour about their strategies. A lot of things could go wrong and they could never be prepared for everything. For all they know, it might be a trap set by HYDRA. Or the guy just knows about SHIELD and sees it as an easy ticket to America.

“Any chance you have heard from Clint?” Pietro asks quietly when they head back to the house.

“You have been separated for twelve hours and you’re already homesick,” Natasha laughs. She wraps her arm around his shoulders and presses him closer to her. “I haven’t heard from him, their mission has radio silence for safety reasons,” she stops in her steps and looks right in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Pietro, he’s going to be just fine. He’s done more dangerous things in the past,” she assures him.

They end up sharing the bed. Natasha curls up to Pietro’s side and he plays with her hair in return. And the dreams that follow? They aren’t so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about this thing since the last chapter.  
> I'd like to improve my writing (I know the grammar is going to be an issue for a little bit longer) and I was thinking that if you want to, you could tell me what bugs you in my writing? Or what you would change? On one hand I'm honestly scared :D But I want to get better in my writing for you. So you'd enjoy reading my works better :3  
> But only if you want to, I don't want to force you or anything :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! Right in your face, deadline!  
> But seriously now - I'm pretty unsure about this chapter. (I've been in a rush, so it might not be as good) So let me know what do you think about it :3

The next day Pietro and Natasha are busy since the very morning. Needless to say that days in places like this begun with sunrise and ended with sunset.

They help Olga with chores after breakfast, just like they promised they would. Pietro might’ve cheated with his superpowers once or twice, but it was totally justifiable. She was old and Pietro wanted to do as much as he could for her. He might've also chopped enough wood for her to go through two winters.

 _“What would I do without you?”_ Olga praises them when she sees the work they’ve done. She almost cries as she pushes freshly baked kolaches on the table in front of them.

Just like a grandma, Pietro thinks and smiles at her. She encourages him to take some and Pietro doesn’t need to be told twice. His mouth waters just from looking at them

 _“Oh my God, they are so good!”_ he moans around a mouthful when he first bites down. He can’t believe the fluffiness on his tongue is real.

So naturally, Pietro’s first instinct is to stuff his face.

Natasha gives him a flat look, much like a wife would do. He ignores her in favor of eating, because hello, this is some grandma-quality pastry here! And it’s even better when he sees how it makes Olga happy that he likes her kolaches.

 _“We’d like to go hiking today and explore this beautiful area,”_ Natasha interrupts Pietro’s shoveling. _“Do you know any nice places around here?”_

Nat is definitely selling their story well. Even if they already know where their contact wants to meet, it’s still polite to ask Olga for some directions and tips. She doesn’t need to know who they are. To her, they are just two tourists who don’t know shit about this part of Russia.

Olga starts talking about all the things that are worth seeing and throws a little story here and there. Pietro imagines what it would be like to spend the winter in here. Snowed in, feeling cozy in this tiny wooden house with fire crackling in the stone stove and sweet smell of sugar in the air. Olga would sit down at the table and start telling one of the long forgotten stories. And Pietro would sit still and listen, thrilled for the ending.

He would probably be mesmerized like he is now. He only realizes that he’s spaced out when Nat jabs him in his ribs. He shakes his head and continues to eat while he listens to Olga. He’s not sure whether it’s a coincidence or not, but the last place she mentions is the one where they are supposed to meet their contact.

 _“Be careful, the terrain there is tricky. A lot of loose rocks and narrow trails,”_ she warns them.

 _“We’ll be careful, I promise,”_ Pietro smiles at her.

He stands up next to Natasha and wraps his arm around her slim waist. He presses her close to his body and feels the redhead relax next to him. He kisses the top of her head with affection. Playing a married couple wasn’t that hard.

 _“You are so beautiful, my children,”_ Olga sighs.

Her gaze is fond and there is wetness visible in her eyes. Pietro notices, even though she wears thick glasses. Is there a story behind her sudden emotions? Where is her son? She mentioned that he moved out. But why aren’t there any pictures of him and his spouse? Pietro doesn’t ask. It’s not his place to ask questions about life that belongs to someone else.

With his own life passing in a constant blur of blue and silver, Pietro rarely has time to stop and think about the way _he_ lives.

He is going to grow old too, right? And what if he ends up like this? Alone, at the end of the world, because everyone he had either died or left him. What if his powers wear out with time and he ends up slow? He would lose it. Just thinking about how hard it would be to get up without help from anybody else makes him itch. Life like this would certainly make him miserable

_But she looks content._

Maybe that Olga is happy, after all. Russians always tended to be humble. Maybe because life at place like this was never kind or easy and people there had to learn how to survive with little. When Pietro looks at Olga’s eyes, he sees they are cloudy. They miss that flame young people have; that beautiful shine of life.

 _“Shall we get going, Sasha?”_ Natasha speaks gently to him.

 _“Sure,”_ he smiles at Nat and pushes the dark thoughts away.

They get their stuff and with the final goodbyes and promises they will return for dinner, they leave the tiny house and village.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Natasha states when they are about one mile away from the last house in the village.

Pietro shrugs and studies the path. He’s still thinking about the old lady. She reminded him of his grandma. And all the thoughts about turning old and being helpless didn’t help his case.

“What is it?” she gently pushes. “Is it about our mission?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” he lies.

“You know that right now I need your head in the game, right?” she looks at him. It’s not a mad look. She just wants to know what’s wrong and how she can fix it. Pietro could tell that much.

“Sorry, it’s just…” he runs fingers through his hair and tries to find the right words.

 _But what is it really, Pietro? You just realized that you could end up like that old lady. What’s the big deal? Everyone’s going to grow old. Yeah, but I don’t want to!_ She was so old. So alone. In the middle of nowhere. Was there even somebody who’d take care of her when she’s sick?

“I need distraction,” he admits after a while. “Can we talk strategy or something?”

“Sure,” she nods. “I was thinking about that guy. Something seems off,” she continues. There is a hint of frown on her face.

“Why? Have you met him before?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she shakes her head. “But something about him… I don’t think he is who he claims he is,” she sighs. “Be prepared for anything, okay?”

“I will be,” he promises.

They continue walking and Pietro appreciates how the nature around them slowly changes. The terrain isn’t easy, though. Olga was right, they need to be careful. It’d suck ass to run and fight the bad guys with a sprained ankle. Even if it could heal in under two hours, it would still suck.

He wonders whether Nat is right about their contact. Last night he caught only glimpses of the guy. He looked like someone who lives alone, maybe survives in the mountains like a hermit or something. But who could he be beside a war veteran or an ex-soldier? Maybe a HYDRA officer? But how could be two Avengers of any worth to HYDRA? The wheels in Pietro’s head are already in motion.

“We’ll stop here,” Natasha announces when they are in safe distance from the village so nobody can see them.

She drops her backpack and gets out some GPS advanced tech to check their location. She takes out couple of knives and guns and hides them in her clothes and boots.

“Here, you get some too, just in case,” she hands him two ring daggers. “They’ll be easier for you to hold in your speed.”

“Thanks,” he takes them from her. “But how-“ she interrupts him before he even manages to finish the question.

“I borrowed this from Clint and made some adjustments,” she takes his archery gloves out. “I’ll strap one on your forearm, so you can access it easily, if needed,” she explains and takes his left arm.

She pushes the sleeve up to his elbow and attaches the stripes of Clint’s archery glove. (And no, he definitely doesn’t imagine Clint saying “There is a special kind of hell for people who cut this fine stuff into pieces!”)

The leather is soft and feels almost buttery against Pietro’s skin. But the worst part is that he’s getting a weird kick out of seeing it on his arm. All these times he saw Clint wearing it, flexing his muscles underneath. He remembers in vivid detail how the leather flattered Clint’s tanned skin and how he found it immensely hot. Like I-want-to-lick-it kind of hot.

“Oh please don’t tell me this turns you on?” Natasha has a horrified look on her face.

Crap, he had to do something that gave his thoughts away. Or Wanda has taught her how to read other people’s minds. Double crap. The panic has to show on his face too and it’s probably enough of evidence for her.

“Oh god, not you too!” she says with disgust and finishes strapping the modified glove with more strength than was necessary.

“It doesn’t turn me on!” he protests. But it only takes him a heartbeat to confess under her intense stare. “Maybe a little bit?”

“I should’ve known it,” she shakes her head and hands Pietro the other knife. “This one should fit in your boot. But if it’s uncomfortable, take it out, I know you’re not used to wearing knives on you,” she watches him hide the other knife and waits for his response.

“I’ll tell you if it stings.”

“You better do,” she points a finger at his chest. “I can’t afford any injuries. So you better tell me or I tell Clint how you get off on his archery gloves,” there’s that fire in her eyes that says she’s not fucking around.

Pietro’s breath catches in his throat for a second before he’s able to respond.

“Okay. I will definitely tell you,” he swears.

The corners of her lips twitch up slightly. She’s obviously amused by her new discovery, but Pietro knows better than to comment on it. She wasn’t kidding when she said she’d tell Clint. And he doesn’t need Clint to know that he likes the leather on his forearm a little too much.

_But would it be a bad thing, if he knew?_

Pietro rolls down the sleeve of his flannel down, pretending he doesn’t hear the tiny voice in his head. The knife and leather stripes disappeared beneath the fabric as well as his thoughts. It took him months to learn how to mute his brain during missions. Clint taught him meditation, relaxation, tried to make Pietro focus on his target. It was hell of a job. Looking back, Pietro is amazed that the archer didn’t snap and kill him during the first month they trained together.

Meanwhile, Pietro and Nat kept walking for another hour and a half, until they reached their destination. It was supposed to be a nice place that overlooked the valley. Not exactly the highest point, but high enough to enjoy sunsets and sunrises.

There’s not much there. Just ruins of an old shack with holes in the roof and a tall wooden cross nearby. But the view is truly stunning.

“Seems like we’re here,” Natasha says, even if they both already know. As soon as the words left her mouth, they landed in a thick atmosphere around them. So this was happening. A mission. A real danger waiting for the two of them.

Natasha is already all over the place, looking for the man or any other suspicious things. Like landmines, triggers, cameras, whatever the man could hid in the place.

“And on time,” a new voice cuts in.

Pietro spins around to see the source. And there he is – tall, dark and whole lot of intimidating. Natasha freezes next to him and shakes her head frantically.

“No, no, no, this can’t be true,” she repeats over and over.

Pietro looks at her. She is pale, eyes firmly locked on the man in front of her. She’s not shaking yet, but Pietro can tell it takes a lot of body control for her not to. She has to know him, somehow. Pietro turns his head back to face the man. Yes, he does look familiar. Shoulder-length dark hair, a bit of scruff, black combat trousers, blue overcoat and gloves.

“I’ve seen you before, yes?” Pietro asks.

He had to see him before. But where? And how come Natasha recognizes him? Pietro keeps a close eye on him, just in case the man decides to use some kind of weapon on them. There is no way that his pockets are empty. What kind of soldier would go unarmed to a potential battle?

“I remember you,” the man speaks up. “You’re the fast one. You have a sister, right?” nope, Pietro definitely didn’t like him.

People who knew about him and his sister were marked as immediate threat. Who was this guy anyway? He was supposed to give them the coordinates of HYDRA bases around the world in exchange for asylum in the States. But this guy just doesn’t strike him as the type. Something tells Pietro he doesn’t give two shits about the promised green card. No, this man came for something else.

“Why don’t we cut the bullshit and get straight to business?” Pietro is done. So done with the man in front of him. He has no idea who he is, what does he want and his patience is wearing thin.

Natasha is visibly tense and alert next to him, but she shook off the initial shock and is ready to fight. The guy grins and slowly reaches for his breast pocket. The movement is drawn-out, so it doesn’t cause any disruption. Even if it was a gun that he’s pulling out, Pietro would be quick enough to snatch it from him. For now. It would be much worse in case he would pull a pin, let’s say, from a hand grenade.

He’s a bit worried, though, that it could be some kind of bio-weapon. He could never be fast enough facing a gas-based weapon. Especially if the gas happened to be specially designed to immobilize him. Like the one Strucker used on him.

But to his utter surprise the man pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.

“I’ve got what you want,” he hands out the paper. It’s yellow-ish and dirty.

“And how do we know you’re not lying?” Natasha asks. There are sparks in her eyes and it makes her look dangerous. Not even in the sexy way, just plain murder.

Pietro runs to snatch the paper from the man’s hand. It’s right then when he sees the peaking metal on his wrist. He almost trips over a branch on the ground when he does.

_Holy buttfuck, it’s the Winter Soldier!_

“You don’t,” the soldier says. He stares at them with a blank expression on his face. It makes Pietro feel vaguely uneasy, because he can’t read any kind of emotions on his face.

“What do you want?” Natasha hisses. Her patience is wearing thin as well.

“Lift back home?”

_And what? Come again?_

The Winter Soldier asks them for a ride? And was that a hesitation right there when he flicked his eyes from Natasha to Pietro? This wasn’t the same Winter Soldier that Steve warned him about. He had been warned that this man should be approached with caution, because he’s basically a trained killing machine. Yes, Steve had a faith in his friend, hoped he would remember. But he was also the only person on Earth that could trigger the process of remembering. At least Pietro thought that’s how it works.

“How do we know you won’t try to kill us the first chance you get?” it’s Pietro who speaks up. He doesn’t trust that guy. Not when he knows his record. That bastard killed Howard Stark and dozens of other innocent people. The only mission he has ever failed was to kill Captain America.

“I could’ve done it when you slept in that house,” the soldier says bitterly. “But Steve…” he looks down at his hands. “Steve wouldn’t want that,” he finishes in quiet voice, so unlike the asset.

This seems to do the trick for Pietro. That change in voice and body language gave away enough for Pietro to start doubting. He is hesitant with his thoughts at first, but then thinks more about it. What if Bucky, as Steve refers to him, isn’t all that dangerous? The guy looked rather pathetic. Not on the first look, no. But when you looked closer, you could see it – the old ragged clothes, thick five o’clock shadow on his face, dirt everywhere. And what was up with that pleading tone when he asked them for the ride home? The asset would never put out an act this long. If he wanted to kill them, he would’ve waited in his spider hole, then shoot them both from distance or get it over with the moment he got what he wanted. He could’ve done all of it by now.

Which leaves Pietro with two possibilities. One, the soldier didn't get what he's after yet. And two, he's not on a mission.

“Why are you here?” Natasha pushes. The hard features on her face speak clearly. She hates him. And from what had Pietro read? She has a good reason for it.

“My past… I was looking for my past,” he looks back up to them. “First in America, then I travelled back to Europe. Left enough clues and trails behind to occupy Steve for months,” the name of his friend still hurts his lips when he says it out loud.

The asset doesn’t try to hide his human side anymore. His whole face is a mixture of emotions. There’s so many of them that they are impossible to read. It leaves Pietro wondering if he had ever seen anyone so damaged in his life before. Someone who could carry a storm in their heart and not fall apart.

“So now what? You are the good guy?” Pietro raises his eyebrow.

Bucky shakes his head and looks at the ground.

“I can never be the righteous golden boy of America,” he mutters with a hint of sentiment in his voice.

“And you expect us to take you back to the U.S.?” Natasha asks with disbelief.

“I ask you to,” he’s silent for a while and when nobody talks, he continues. “You can check the coordinates with Howard’s son, I know you have some tech on you,” he nods towards Natasha. “All I ask of you is to bring me back to the States. Keep it a secret, especially from Steve,” he looks at both of them with hope. It’s like he tries to play the soft spot.

“What if we decide not to take you?” Natasha has eyes fixed on him, hands instinctively near the hidden weapons.

“You will never have the complete list,” the asset grins. The darkness returns back to his eyes and it twists his features into something ugly.

“There is more?” Pietro can’t hold back the surprise.

The list he gave them already contained about 8 bases. That’s whole lot of work. Whole lot of people and whole lot of danger for that stupid archer to get hurt in. What is wrong with these pseudo-nazi idiots? Don’t they know they can’t rule the world with Avengers working their asses off?

“I excluded the biggest ones. The ones where they trained me and the others,” the soldier looks over at Natasha and gives her a crooked smile.

“They still exist?” she asks, but dreads the answer.

“Yes, моя красивая, _my beautiful_. And children still get hurt.”

“We need to take them down,” Pietro fumes. Angry that more people, particularly children, are getting hurt because of HYDRA.

“You know what you need to do,” the asset shrugs and turns around to walk away.

“Wait!” Natasha yells after him. “How are you going to contact us?” she has desperation in her voice that Pietro never heard before. It gives him a good reason to stay alert.

“You will leave soon, right? When the time comes, I will meet you by your plane,” he simply says without turning around and walks off.

They stand there, baffled by the absurdity of the whole situation. Neither of them dares to say a word, until they can’t see the soldier anymore. And even then it takes another ten minutes for them to come back together.

“Please tell me it wasn’t just me?” Pietro looks at her with pleading eyes. She takes a deep breath in and shakes her head.

“What are we going to do?” he doesn't realize the words came out, he's too lost. He adamantly refuses to admit that he's freaking out.

On one hand, they need the complete list of HYDRA bases for everyone’s sake. And he doubts that the locations the asset gave them are fake. The soldier needed to gain their trust, he couldn’t afford to put on made up locations. On the other hand – what if he’s full of bullshit and this is just a way of getting revenge on the Avengers?

Natasha starts walking and gestures for Pietro to follow. She is silent for most of the way back and he doesn’t blame her. The silence between them stretches for miles, but it finally comes to a stop when they are about halfway through the trail. They are on a vast clearing with nobody else in sight.

“You need to eat, I’ll call Stark to check the coordinates,” she announces and before Pietro can argue, she’s already pushing food towards his way.

“You’re like Wanda,” Pietro complains, but takes the snack anyway.

He never declines when someone offers him his favorite energy bar. Sometimes he eats dozen of them in under two hours just because he can. And then his stomach hurts. But it’s totally worth it.

“She cares about you, stupid,” Natasha chuckles. “You know that you need to eat often with your fast metabolism, don’t you?” it’s sarcastic and Pietro loves how she sounds exactly like Clint sometimes.

“Alright, alright… I’ll be a good boy,” he gives up and shuts his mouth with the delicious sweetness.

He sits down on the nearest tree stump and watches Natasha the whole time he eats. She calls Tony and Pietro wonders how the phone can pick up any signal here. But then he remembers it’s probably Stark-designed, so he forgets it. They talk for a minute before Nat sends him the coordinates. She doesn’t mention that it was the Winter Soldier who gave it to them.

“Seems like he wasn’t lying,” she sighs and sits next to Pietro. "Tony did a quick scan and each showed some kind of military-based objects."

“So what do you think we should do? Take him with us?”

Right now, Pietro wishes they had Steve with them. The Captain always knew what the right thing to do is. For once Pietro doesn’t want the luxury of deciding their next step. He would never forgive himself if more people would get hurt because of his reckless behavior. And what kind of sick people takes children in to train them into cold-blooded killers? Who gave them the right to take the most precious things from these kids? Rip them away from their families and destroy their childhood.

Pietro knows what it’s like to be experimented on and reduced to a suicidal mess. But being taken away from his parents and sister from such a tender age? No, he can’t imagine that. When he looks over to Natasha, he wonders. What is she thinking? Is she okay? She came from a place like that, she knows the horrors. And he knows she’s going to fight till the end to destroy every last one of those facilities. He knows because he will be there, right by her side.

“We will have to,” she picks up a tiny flower that bloomed next to the stump. “If he’s right and there are still… we can’t just close our eyes,” she turns her head to Pietro.

Her eyes are glassy, more than usual. He knows what the right thing to do is. He hugs her. Allows her to hide in his arms.

“We are going to save them, don’t worry,” he assures her.

He wishes he could tell her more. Promise her, that escorting one of the most dangerous people on this planet will go smoothly and he won’t hurt them. But he doesn’t know that. For all he knows, the soldier might be still working for someone and try to kill them on the plane. But from what Pietro saw today?

It just doesn’t make any sense.

Bucky has been on the run this whole time. If he wanted to hurt Steve or Sam, or anybody else for that matter, he could’ve done it a thousand times. But he remembers now, right? Maybe all he needs is time to figure things out. Pietro read the record, that guy had been brainwashed bazillion times. Who wouldn’t be confused after that?

“Isn’t there a way that we could tell Steve and ask him for advice?” he asks in hopes of getting someone else in on the case.

Natasha shakes her head.

“You know Steve, he dives head first into trouble. And even more so when it’s about Bucky,” she sighs. “We can’t tell him just yet.”

“What about somebody else? Someone needs to know in case shit goes down!” Pietro argues.

“We can’t tell them, do you understand?” Natasha grips his shirt tightly and makes him look in her eyes. “You don’t know the way he was trained. If we tell anyone, there is no way he won’t know. He always finds out.”

 

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

The farewells are the worst.

Pietro almost cries when he says his goodbyes to Olga. She gives him some sweet pastry to eat on their way. Her eyes are happy, even though there are tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. Even Natasha looks a bit thrown off by the whole thing.

But they need to go. They have stayed long enough and they have mission to finish.

Pietro embraces the old lady in a tight hug and refuses to let go for solid two minutes. He ends up promising her he would show up again. A promise he doesn’t know if he can keep.

They walk away and it hurts. For some reason Pietro wishes he could stay a little longer. And what is it that drags him towards this god’s forsaken place anyway? Sooner or later he’d start missing Wanda and then the others. Hell, he’s sure that there’d be a day when he’d call Tony just to hear his voice.

“Do you think we’ll survive this?” Pietro asks her as they walk.

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “And if we do, we will never hear the end of it from Steve,” there is a small smile on her lips.

“I might start to wish we won’t make it,” he jokes.

“Yeah, well, too bad I have to deliver you back to Barton,” she says with a sly smile.

Pietro punches her arm in a playful manner and they both laugh over their silly conversation. It’s nice to just blow off some steam and stop being so serious in times that aren’t so bright. They might not make this. But that doesn’t mean they have to sulk the entire time. Might as well enjoy the ride, right?

When they make it to the quinjet, it doesn’t surprise neither of them that the soldier is already there. Pietro honestly wants to know how he did that. As far as he knows, he’s the only fast superhuman here.

“Ready to board?” Natasha asks dryly.

The soldier nods. There isn’t a vocal response or any missiles suddenly flying their way. He looks tired, there are dark circles under his eyes and he looks dirtier than he did yesterday.

“Don’t you want to search me?” he asks. It comes out ragged and resigned.

Natasha nods towards Pietro to do the searching. The blond sighs and puts down his frame backpack so he can get it over with. He uses his super speed to search through all the pockets and fabric folds. He ends up with three knives, one hand gun and one piece of explosive. He also finds scrunched up photo of Steve from before he entered the project Rebirth. He feels guilty for finding it. It was in Bucky’s left breast pocket and he leaves it there. He thinks it’s only fair for him to keep the picture.

“Alright,” Natasha says as she examines the weapons Pietro brought back to her. “You can go with us. But under one condition,” she looks at him sharply.

“Yes?”

“You will be strapped the whole time.”

Pietro looks at Natasha and expect her to explain herself. He doesn’t let the confusion show on his face, but he is pretty sure the asset had to pick up on it anyway. But it’s not like they talked about how they would escort the soldier, so…

Bucky ends up agreeing. He sits on the metal bench in the section for prisoners and lets Pietro put the magnetic cuffs on him. They are strong enough to hold his metal arm and keep both his hands over his head, pressed tightly to the wall behind him. He’s going to be pretty sore after the four hour flight, he thinks. But the soldier doesn’t seem to mind. He has that blank expression again like he couldn’t care less about his fate.

Pietro locks him up and walks over to Natasha who is already flicking on switches and gets ready for take-off. She looks composed and calm and it helps Pietro relax a little. He doesn’t question it. In fact, he doesn’t question anything anymore.

Bucky could break out of the cuffs, if he wanted. He could pull apart the bars, they aren’t adamantium, after all. He could. But all he does is sit in his little corner and stare off into distance.

“Steve is gonna call, can you disable the camera?” Natasha asks in a hushed tone.

Pietro nods and fishes out a black electrical tape they kept around for fixing any damage. It’s really good to have something to isolate the exposed wires when Stark isn’t around to fix it. And being electrocuted isn’t exactly anyone’s favorite kink, so much for the tape. He walks back to the front of the quinjet and looks for the small camera that films the inside of the cockpit during video calls.

Steve would be able to see the prisoner’s section during the phone call, since the quinjet was of smaller size. And Natasha wanted to make good on her promise. Pietro tapes the camera and makes sure there isn’t another one anywhere else. You never knew with Stark. He always made improvements without telling anyone.

“Go, tell him,” she gives an indirect order, keeping her voice low and eyes trained on the dashboard.

Pietro walks over to the tiny cell and sits on the ground in front of the soldier.

“Steve is going to call to check how our mission went. We taped the cameras, so he won’t be able to see anything in here, not even you,” he says. He caught Bucky’s attention right at Steve’s name. It was like one of those ultrasonic whistles that’s used to train dogs.

“You kept your promise,” the soldier says and meets Pietro’s eyes. “I want to keep my promise as well,” he rasps and pauses for a second. “I’ll tell you the rest of the coordinates.”

Pietro nods and gets up to fetch some paper to write them down. He still feels uneasy with the ex-assassin on board. But all he can do is hope it’ll turn alright. Just when he finally finds pen that’s working, Steve chimes in.

“Natasha, Pietro, what’s your status?”

“Heading back to headquarters, mission accomplished,” she replies. “No casualties, everything worked out.”

“Why can’t I see you?” Steve fusses on the other side. Pietro hides his laugh in the last second. It earns him a warning look from Nat.

“Seems like it’s broken, we don’t really know. Tony should check it when we get back,” Pietro says instead.

“Alright, I’ll give him heads up,” Steve says. “And by the way congratulations on your mission.”

“What about the other mission? How’s my sister?” Pietro knows he shouldn’t be shooting questions like that, but he can’t help it. It’s been too long without Wanda. And Clint.

“They are alive, your sister had some scratches and bruises, but she’s okay,” Steve assures him.

Why the hell would she have any scratches and bruises with her powers? Pietro definitely doesn’t like it. Not even the part where Steve said _“They are alive”_. He’s almost scared to ask the next question.

“And the others?”

“Sam got a concussion, he should be fine. And Clint, well…” Steve scratched the back of his head. _No, no, no._

“What’s up with the Birdman?” Natasha interrupts. If it wasn’t for her, Pietro would be already shouting at their Captain.

“A ceiling fell down on him. Broken ribs, left shin and probably nose as well. They arrived yesterday late at night, so I don’t know much yet,” he looks genuinely apologetic.

“He’ll be fine. He got it worse when he met me,” Natasha says smugly.

How can she be so fine with it when the old man almost got killed again? Hell, a damn ceiling fell down on him!

“What about the contact?” Steve changes the subject.

“Changed his mind the last minute and stayed there,” Natasha replied. She looked at Pietro and mimicked for him to not say anything. Like he would. He rather leaves the diplomacy to her.

They talk some more, but Pietro doesn’t listen. He shuffles his feet to the back of the quinjet to sulk. One goddamn mission and that stupid Birdman gets hurt. How could it even happen? Did he try to sacrifice himself again? They need to have a serious conversation about sacrifices when he gets back. For real this time.

When he sits down in the opposite corner of Bucky to enjoy his own dark cloud overhead, he hears the soldier laugh bitterly. _And why the fuck do you laugh, huh? Something funny, dickhead?_

“Boyfriend trouble, right?” he mutters. More to himself than to Pietro, but it’s loud enough for him to pick it up. “Steve used to be a little shit, too. Would get into every back alley fight he could. Had to rescue him each time,” he chuckles.

Bucky’s hair fall into his face and Pietro can’t see his eyes anymore. Why does he want to talk to him? Why does he share these stories about Steve?

“So why don’t you want to see him again?” Pietro asks. He knows he’s probably pushing about a million boundaries right now. But it’s been bugging him this whole time.

“I want to,” he replies with a sigh. “Not as easy with my record.”

“You know he doesn’t care, yes?” how could Bucky think, for even a second, that Steve has lost faith in him? “He keeps looking for you because he misses you. He wants to see you again, talk to you,” Pietro trails.

The soldier stops responding after that, so Pietro leaves him with his thoughts. The flight back home takes forever and it makes everything even worse. Pietro starts fidgeting halfway through it, nervous and almost shaking with the pent-up energy.

“Sit down, he’s fine,” Natasha half-yells at him when he starts picking on stuff around the quinjet. “You could actually clean this place up, if you’re so full of energy,” she remarks sarcastically.

So Pietro does. It takes him about 1.3 seconds to do that.

“Now what?” he wants more orders. Anything, to keep him busy.

“We’ll be there soon, Pietro. And I promise you that Clint is okay,” she tells him again. “He just broke couple of bones, I’m sure he’ll be happy to play the doctors with you later,” she rolls her eyes.

There’s a loud shout from the back. “TMI!” Bucky yells and it actually makes Nat crack a smile.

“I can go on if you want!” she shouts back.

It’s weird, Pietro thinks. Bucky seems perfectly normal, or at least he hasn’t tried to kill them yet. Which counts as a success, right? And now even Nat relaxes enough around him to crack jokes?

He still waits for the catch in their too-perfect-to-be-true deal. This occupies him for the rest of the ride. He’s so lost in his conspiracy theories that he nearly jumps up when Bucky speaks up.

“Think you can drop me off near NY?” he asks.

Makes sense. He would probably want to get back to where he comes from – Brooklyn. Pietro nods and talks quietly to Natasha. They find a safe spot to land as close to NY as possible. With how large the city is, Bucky better be ready for some serious walking. Or hitchhiking, if he’s lucky enough.

When they land to drop him off, Pietro has the privilege to take off his cuffs and let him go. He’s nervous, expects the ex-assassin to make his move and do something. But nothing happens.

“Do you think you could do me a favor?” he asks quietly, so Natasha doesn’t hear him.

“And that would be…?” he’s surprised Bucky has the nerve, after all. But Pietro is curious. His own damn nosiness would never let him say a simple fuck off.

“Tell Steve I’m back in Brooklyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holly buttfuck, I made it into a soap-opera!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so after over 3 weeks of waiting, here is the final chapter. I'm not sure about it, even though it includes everything I wanted to write in it.  
> I blame the smut for it, because I'm super not good at writing that! But you should judge that, after all. Please enjoy!

As soon as the quinjet lands, Pietro sprints out of it.

The first place he stops by is Steve’s office.

“Where is Wanda?” he cuts right to the point, no hi’s or pleasantries.

Steve gives him an unimpressed look that says  _‘You better behave, son’._ His features were hard and stern. That usually meant Pietro was about to cross some serious lines.

“Okay,” the younger sighs. “Hi Steve, I’m glad to see you. Now where is my sister?” he can’t help the eye roll, though. He hopes Steve won’t kill him for that.

See, it was how the twins worked. Even if Pietro knew that Wanda’s alright, his first instinct would always be to ask for her. His heart was aching for her the moment he boarded on the quinjet. And it was getting worse now, that she was so close to his reach.

Besides, it would be all kinds of awkward to ask about Clint first.

It would make sense, though, if he asked for Clint as eagerly as he did for Wanda.

The archer was badly injured – he had it worst, from all the people who were sent on that mission. And it was only natural that Pietro would ask how is Clint doing. They might’ve had their fair share of arguing, but at the end of the day they still cared for each other. And Pietro felt like the others already knew that something was up between him and Clint. After all, their little  _‘You didn’t see that coming?’_ routine wasn’t all that subtle.

But leave these tiny hints to Steve to figure.

Sooner or later their leader would hoard enough clues and bits of evidence to really see the big picture. He might not be the fastest one with new technology and pop culture references, but he was a damn old-school spy. Pietro’s bets were all on him to figure out what’s between him and Clint first. Hell, he might even bet Clint on it, too.

All jokes aside, Steve wasn’t pleased with Pietro’s rude antré.

“Nice to see you too, Pietro,” he frowned from behind his desk.

Steve had to realize that Pietro won’t talk to him anytime soon. The debriefing will have to wait, as always.

“She’s outside, I think,” Steve resigns with a sigh. “Please make it quick, we need to debrief and decide our next move.”

“Thanks!” Pietro yells over his shoulder as he runs out of the office.

Steve was right. Pietro finds his sister outside. She is sound and safe, just as he promised. There were only tiny scratches left on her chin and couple bruises over the side of her face. She was sitting on the grass in front of a tiny flowerbed that Pietro helped her to build some time ago.

Wanda was aware that her brother is near and she turns her head on instinct the moment she feels his presence the strongest. It’s all he needs to run to her and embrace her in the tightest bear hug without a single word. He doesn’t let go for another minute or two. He missed his twin way too much.

At first, Wanda is surprised with his actions, but it doesn’t take her long to wrap her arms around her brother’s shoulders and reciprocate the hug.

“I missed you too, brother,” she laughs and pets his hair. “How was your mission?”

“Boring?” he looks up to her. “Well, there was a lot of happening, actually?” he confesses under his sister’s intense gaze.

“Tell me all about it!” she claps her hands together in excitement.

It never ceased to amaze Pietro how easily she could be excited over stories that people could tell her. She loved fairy tales and old legends as a kid, her hunger for them was insatiable. She never grew up, he thought. It’d always put a smile on her face and it was endearing, really, how even the shortest stories could brighten her eyes so much.

“I promise to tell you everything, but first tell me that you’re okay?” Pietro examines her face and looks for any sign of distress. The bruises alone were enough to leave him worried.

“Pietro, look at me,” she takes his hands in hers. She holds them gently and gives them a small squeeze.

“You know that I’m fine. And right now you should be worried more about Clint. He was badly injured when he was trying to push everyone out of danger,” she looks down for a split second before she can look back in his eyes.

“I was knocked down and weren’t fast enough to stop the debris falling on him,” her face is filled with pain and guilt that Pietro knows all too well. It’s the same expression he often sees in mirror.

She should never feel like this.

“Now you listen to me, Wanda, okay? It’s not your fault. Our jobs are dangerous and you did all you could, to help him,” he tells her, knowing that she would never let Clint get hurt. And deep down she probably knew it as well, but it always helps to hear it from someone else.

For a split second she looks like she wants to argue further, but eventually she decides to let it go with a sigh.

“Go find him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, too,” she caresses his cheek and shoves lightly at his chest to send him away.

“But we haven’t talked in so long!” he protests.

He wants to see the annoying old man, you bet he does. But he also owes Wanda and they’ve been apart longer than neither of them was comfortable with. Why can’t Clint and Wanda be both well and in the same room right now? It’d save Pietro whole lot of dilema.

“I’m going to meet Vision in couple minutes,” she waves her hand in the hair and dismisses Pietro’s argument. “So just go find Clint and make him some company,” she winks at him and Pietro knows exactly what she meant with that wink.

He shakes his head over Wanda’s bluntness and grins. She knows him too well.

“Okay. But be safe, please? And if Vision ever even thinks about hurting you, I swear…!”

“Yes, I understand, brother,” she rolls her eyes and starts shoving at Pietro’s chest with more force. “Now go, seriously,” she kisses his cheek and uses tiny bit of her power to create a pull in his heart that drags him towards Clint.

_‘Ow, that’s a dick move, Wanda!’_ he complains in his thoughts, but all he can hear in return is her laughter.

He ruffles her hair as a revenge, just the way she hates. It will make her cringe and cuss and she’ll look adorable the whole time. Too bad he won’t be there to see it. He runs away before Wanda can give him a proper payback and he’s giggling like the little shit he is the whole time.

Now the only mission he has is to find Clint.

Pietro has no idea what he’s going to talk about with him, or how to even start their conversation, for that matter. The only thing he is sure about, is that he missed Clint. And that he wants to see him. The rest? He will have to rely on his natural confidence and cockiness to do the heavy lifting. Shouldn’t be a problem to come up with something to brag about, right?

The only difficult thing here will be finding the archer.

Or maybe not really.

Pietro finds himself in front of the door into the medical wing of the Avengers HQ. He’s been there a lot himself, not many pleasant memories came from there.

Just as he reaches for the door handle, he stops. His heart is beating faster than it should and his palms are clammy. What is this? He feels the blood rushing to his cheeks and his stomach does weird things. For a second there he’s worried that there is something wrong with him, until he realizes that it’s probably just a surge of adrenaline.

_Just don’t throw up, idiot._

Well, this is just great. Pietro Maximoff, embarrassed and nervous. That’s a new one, he thinks sarcastically.

But he knows damn well there’s a reason why he feels anxious like this. It was the way they left things without talking about them. Before they went on their separate missions – that night they spent together. Now Pietro sees why Clint insisted on talking things out.

Because how exactly should he approach Clint now? How is he going to face him? Are they just friends now, or should he greet him with a kiss? Pietro would very much like to welcome the archer with a kiss, but he isn’t sure what the appropriate way to address their little thing is.

_God, stop thinking about the kissing and groping!_

Clint wanted to talk to him  _about that thing between us we never talk about,_ if Pietro remembers correctly _._ And there is no way that he’ll be able to talk his way out of it today.

“Hello, Dr. Cho,” Pietro greets the young doctor with his usual charming smile. “Where can I find Clint?”

No time to panic, it’s time to act. Or Steve will be seriously pissed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, he just left,” she gives him an apologetic smile. “But he shouldn’t be too far, he has crutches.”

Pietro thanks her for the useful information and keeps on looking. Medical wing was at the far end of the whole building, so how far could’ve the man walked? Pietro checks Clint’s room, but the door is locked. Okay, not here then.

He almost gives up in the span of three minutes.

The last room he goes to is the common space. He sits down by the breakfast bar at his usual spot and mopes over his stupid boy crush. It’s been what, three days since he hasn’t seen him? It took him three fucking days and couple of stupid kisses to act like a moody teenager.

Pietro grumbles to himself, too consumed in his own grumpiness than to really pay attention to anything else.

He almost jumps up three feet when someone else wraps their arms around his waist. There’s that familiar warmth pressed against his back and it’s like home.

There is a low voice next to his ear that drips smoothly like honey.

“Bet you didn’t see this coming,” it’s sly whisper followed by a tiny kiss on Pietro’s nape.

“You fucking idiot!” Pietro spins around so quickly that he nearly falls off.

If it’s from the speed or the initial shock from seeing Clint, he doesn’t know.

The archer is bruised and covered with cuts and scratches all over. He has one broken leg covered in white cast and Pietro is surprised that he hadn’t heard the clacking sound of crutches sooner. There is a small piece of elastoplastic tape over the bridge of Clint’s nose as well. Did he manage to break it again? Not to mention the stitches over his right eyebrow and the ugly yellow bruise there.

Pietro stops looking, decides he doesn’t want to see, just yet. He jumps down from the bar stool to hug the archer, careful not to squeeze too much. He can feel the older man relax against him, feel his steady breathing against his.

He’s okay.

When the archer starts pulling away to say something, Pietro beats him to it and covers Clint’s pretty mouth with his. The kiss is greedy and too fast and it stops the archer from arguing. He goes pliant in Pietro’s arms and kisses back just as eagerly.

“You’re stupid,” Pietro mutters between kisses.

He has one hand on Clint’s neck and the other under the man’s t-shirt. He can feel the bandages beneath his fingertips. It’s a reminder of the man’s mortality. It only forces Pietro to be more urgent. It’s like if he doesn’t kiss hard enough, Clint will vanish.

He needs to know he’s alive and that it’s not another dream. He needs to feel how real it is.

“Please,” it’s a low pitched whine and Pietro doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud until Clint pushes him against the breakfast bar. He used more strength than was necessary and it almost kicked the wind out of the boy’s lungs. But God, the burn! It burned so well and Pietro needed more. He let Clint pull his long hair and bite down at his lower lip. It all sent cold shivers down his spine with just the tiniest hint of pain he craved.

It’s too much and not enough. Too many clothes, not enough kissing. Not enough nail scraping and not enough naked skin.

Pietro is overwhelmed with his own feelings. The bandages he feels are so real. They are rough, just like the ones they gave him when he came back from the dead.

“You’re alive,” Pietro breaks the kiss and pulls away from Clint.

He looks right in his eyes and it’s hard to believe.

“Yeah,” Clint nods, his voice quiet. “Thought I’d leave you here?” he jokes, but it misses the smile in his voice.

“I was worried,” Pietro feels the tears burning. “I hate you,” he sobs.

When Clint wraps his arms around him, Pietro doesn’t protest. He hides his face in the crook of Clint’s neck and allows the archer to calm him down.

It never felt so real. Until know, when he realized that people who are so close to him could die.

Up to now he always saw them as heroes that couldn’t be touched or hurt. Normal people? Yes, they could die. Him? Yes, he’d sacrifice himself for the greater good. But the others? He never thought about it that way. And now it was too much.

Yes, Clint was usually the one who ended up in hospital for weeks after the mission was over. But it never felt like a real threat. Pietro was worried the first couple times, but when the rest of the team assured him, that the man just had a bad luck, it appeased him for a while. Now, though? Complete different story. This wasn’t just his teammate anymore.

“You can be angry with me all you want,” Clint tells him and runs his fingers up and down his back.

_That bastard, he remembers I’m sensitive there._

“But the truth is, that you really like me,” the smile has returned to Clint’s voice and it takes a lot of self-control not to punch that smug son of a bitch right in his bruised, pretty face.

“You little—“

Clint shuts him up with a kiss.

It’s filthy and open-mouthed and just the right amount of dirty. Pietro moans helplessly and lets Clint take control. The kiss turns sloppy real quick and Pietro wishes Clint would shut him up like this more often. He runs his hands down Clint’s back and then a little further down, just because he can. He squeezes the archer’s ass in his hands. Clint moan’s into his mouth and tugs on Pietro’s hair in return. The younger man gasps for air and absolutely relishes in the way Clint makes him feel.

As if on cue, the archer moves from Pietro’s lips to his jawline where he bites down before moving further down to his neck.  _Oh yes, right there, please._ Pietro tilts his head to the side to allow him a better access. He wishes Clint could leave marks on him that would last for  _days_ . He almost asks him to mark him up for real.

“I feel like now is a good time to talk,” Clint pulls away from his neck. His lips are shiny and swollen and Pietro wants to bite them again, just to make them even more swollen.

He ignores the man in favor of taking in every single detail of his appearance.

He searches Clint’s eyes for a second and sees how dilated his pupils are. He’s barely holding back, Pietro realizes to his own delight. He wants to do things to that man. Take all his anger out on him and let him do the same in return.

He looks down to Clint’s neck and… wait is that?

“No, we’re not talking when you’re wearing a fucking v-neck, Barton!” Pietro looks back to his eyes and sees the amused look on Clint’s face. And seriously? Since when does Clint Barton, of all people, wear these stupidly sexy v-necks that show off collar bones and are so damn provocative? They should be illegal.

“I can take it off, if that’s what you want,” Clint replies smugly and plays with the hem of his shirt.  _Fucking tease, of course you would do this._

“Nuh-uh,” Pietro licks his lips and drags Clint back to him. “I like it where it is just fine,” he whispers while he gently squeezes Clint’s hips.

“You do, huh?” Clint leans closer to him and nuzzles to his neck. “How about we take this somewhere more comfortable then?” he asks between tiny kisses he places on the skin below Pietro’s ear.

A not so subtle cough interrupts them.

Pietro tries to jump away from Clint, but being pressed between him and the breakfast bar doesn’t exactly leave a lot of space. Clint, on the other hand, couldn’t be bothered less.

“Yes, Tasha?” he raises his head and doesn’t bother to take his hands off of Pietro while he’s at it.

“Just wanted to give you heads up that Steve is heading this way,” she says in the sweetest tone. “And he’s looking for you, Pietro,” she cackles.

“I think that’s our cue,” Clint pulls away from Pietro, who is still silent from the shock, and grabs his crutches. “You coming?”

Pietro shakes his head and centers his attention on the present situation. Hell yes he’s coming.

“Yeah, but we’re doing it my way,” he scoops Clint up in his arms and gives one last wink to Nat before he runs.

He swears he hears Clint complain, but Pietro is too busy with doing the math –  _his room or mine?_ After weighing all pros and cons, he decides Clint’s room is definitely a finer choice. It’s probably a lot cleaner than his anyway. And plus it’s where they left things off before, right?

“The bridal style, really?” Clint gives him an unimpressed look when Pietro stops in front of the door.

“Come on,” Pietro laughs and steals Clint’s key so he can unlock the door. “I thought you’d be used to it by now?” he teases.

Before Clint can even drop any sarcastic remark, they are inside. Pietro kicks the door shut behind him and lowers Clint down on his bed. He doesn’t waist the time and straddles the archer, satisfied with the surprised look on Clint’s face.

“If you tell me one more time, that we should talk,” Pietro pauses and rolls his hips down languidly. “I swear to God I’ll leave you here,” another roll of hips. “All by yourself,” he whispers the last words into Clint’s ear, brushing his lips ever so lightly over the sensitive skin there.

Clint drags his hands up Pietro’s thighs, using his blunt nails to let Pietro really feel it. He finally rests his hands on Pietro’s hips and holds the boy firmly in place, preventing him from grinding down.

“I have the right to ask for your consent before I make you a drooling mess, right?” Clint says in a husky voice, mouthing over his pulse point. “Because once we start this? There’s no way you can scream anything else apart from my name and little  _please_ and  _more_ ,” he moans on purpose and tightens the grip on Pietro’s hips at the same time which only makes the boy on top of him squirm.

“Fuck you, Barton!” Pietro barks impatiently.

“That’s the spirit,” Clint laughs and nuzzles against Pietro’s neck. He leaves feathery kisses there. “But seriously now,” he pulls away and looks Pietro right in the eye. “Do you want this?”

The younger man can’t resist the sarcastic eye roll.

“Why do you think I sit on your lap?”  _old man_ . “I really, really want this,” he bites his lips and pushes Clint down on the soft mattress. He hovers just inches above the archer and watches him closely. “Been wanting for some time now,” he mutters and looks down at Clint’s lips.

“C’mere,” the archer runs his fingers through Pietro’s blond hair and pulls him into another kiss.

Pietro lets himself get lost in the kiss, in the way Clint tugs on his hair and how it makes his head spin.

Clint hooks his good leg around Pietro’s and with one swift movement he switches their positions. He’s smiling smugly over the younger man when he does.

“Did I ever tell you how gorgeous you are?” Clint mutters and pushes some of the blond strands from Pietro’s eyes.

The younger boy beneath him just shakes his head, maybe he blushes a bit. It’s hard to say when he’s already flustered from what they’ve been doing. Pietro suddenly feels exposed, almost naked under the piercing blue gaze. He knows that Clint never misses anything. Not a detail, not a change in heartbeat – nothing.

“I should be telling you that more often,” he whispers and leans closer to the boy.

Clint brushes his lips over his, but moves away before Pietro can make it a real kiss. He smiles with a small victory and it puts a frown on Pietro’s face.

“You are beautiful, you know,” he kisses the crease between Pietro’s eyebrows.

“Shut up!” Pietro blushes and covers his face.

“Yes you are, stop hiding,” the archer chuckles and takes Pietro’s hands in his. He slowly drags them away from his face and places them on either side of his head, using his strength to hold the boy in place.

Pietro listens to that order and goes lax. He likes it more than he should when Clint gets bossy and uses that authoritative voice on him. He used to hate it at first, sure, but now it does all kinds of things to him when he hears it. When Clint feels the change in Pietro’s demeanor, he eases the pressure on his wrists and slowly lets go.

The archer runs his hands down Pietro’s chest and under his skin-tight t-shirt. Pietro’s eyelashes flutter under the attention and he closes his eyes with a pleased sigh when Clint pushes the fabric up and stars trailing wet kisses along his abs and up to his nipples. Pietro stops holding back at this point and threads his fingers into Clint’s short hair for support.

“Gonna enjoy taking you apart,” Clint mutters against Pietro’s skin and tugs on the hem of his shirt to take it off.

Pietro obeys and helps Clint get it off. The fabric ruffles his hair even more and he can’t see much when he falls back on the bed. But he doesn’t need to, because Clint is already sucking a mark into his neck. The boy doesn’t want to cause Clint any pain, so he’s careful with his touches. He reaches the bare skin under Clint’s t-shirt and makes sure to only graze the bandages that wrap his chest. He wants to take it off and leave it on at the same time.

He will never get over how hot the v-neck looks on Clint.

“You need to wear these more often,” Pietro sighs and drags the black t-shirt over his head, leaving Clint’s chest exposed.

“Note taken,” Clint laughs. He stays hovering over Pietro, patient as always. He lets him look at the injuries that were hidden under the soft cotton up until now.

“Do you still hurt?” the blond rests his hand over Clint’s left peck and leaves it there to feel his hear beating.

It’s a little too fast and it reminds Pietro where they are.

“Nah, kid, I’m fine,” Clint gives him his best charming smile and it’s all Pietro needs to sit up and push Clint down once more, switching their positions.

He didn’t use enough force to actually push Clint over, but the archer complies anyway and lets Pietro take the lead.

The younger man straddles his hips and pushes down with exactly the right amount of pressure, so Clint can feel his semi-hard dick in his track pants. Pietro repeats his movement couple times, until he hears Clint hiss with pleasure as he tries to hold back. He lowers down with a confidence in his smile and places a sweet kiss on Clint’s jaw.

“I’m going to take you upon your promise now,” he whispers and licks down his neck. “You know… all that about screaming your name and forgetting my own?” he bites down on the shell of Clint’s ear, making the man underneath him squirm.

“But do you know what I also want?” he looks back into Clint’s eyes and sees they are clouded with lust, much like his own.

“What is it you want, little one?” Clint licks his lips and puts his hands on Pietro’s ass, pushing him down just a little more, just a bit harder.

Pietro sucks a mark on Clint’s neck, right under the one that was already there and takes a moment to admire his handiwork. “Want you to lay back and enjoy the ride,” he gives Clint a wicked grin before he slowly rolls his hips for the last time.

He crawls off of Clint and starts tugging down his sweatpants. It’s surprisingly easy task, given how loose they were, so Clint could pull them over the cast on his leg. What Pietro didn’t expect was for the archer going completely commando. He doesn’t let it show on his face, but the cocky smile on the archer’s face tells him how miserably he failed.

Clint pulls the boy back onto his lap and starts kissing him passionately, biting at his lower lip and asking for more. He drags his hands down Pietro’s back, uses his nails to leave red trails behind. He’s satisfied when he hears Pietro moan breathlessly. It’s not often when he can see the kid winded up like this.

Pietro doesn’t waste his time either and trails obscene kisses down Clint’s neck, bites at his collarbone and leaves a dark mark just beneath, making sure no-one but him will be able to see it. He continues down, over the archer’s toned abs, until he finally rests between his legs.

His confidence wears out real quick as things are about to get real.

Pietro feels the palms of his hands sweating, so he acts before he can overthink the situation and ruin it. He wraps his fingers around Clint’s cock and gives it an experimental tug. The archer takes an abrupt inhale and his eyelashes flutter shut. It gives Pietro some of his confidence back and he feels good enough to go down on him.

You see, the thing with blowjobs was that you actually needed practice to make it good. As in, exceptionally good that you ruin your partner for everybody else. And Pietro has never done this before. Maybe with a girl or two back in the day, but that doesn’t really count now, does it?

He decides to bite the bullet and wraps his lips around the head of Clint’s cock, sucking and laving at it. He’s surprised when Clint pushes his fingers in his hair and groans with pleasure.

“God damn it, Pietro,” he hisses, just as the boy takes a little bit more in, licking along the shaft. “Knew that mouth of yours could be put to a better use,” he pets his hair, but doesn’t push, for which is Pietro endlessly grateful.

He wants to make it good for Clint and just as the man tugs on his hair, he moans around the dick in his mouth and starts bobbing his head up and down. He’s rewarded with the litany of praises and small encouragements. Clint tries not to buck his hips up, but his reflexes seem to be stronger and Pietro has to use his strength to hold him in place.

The blond sets the pace, slow and agonizing and enjoys how Clint squirms under him. Taking the archer apart might as well be Pietro’s new favorite activity. He gains his confidence with every little breathless word and moan that slip from Clint’s lips. Pietro feels his own arousal pushing uncomfortably against the tight fabric of his pants. He wants them off, but he also doesn’t want to stop pleasuring Clint.

It’s the gentle pull upwards that forces Pietro to stop sucking at Clint’s cock and look at his eyes instead. He’s out of breath, they both are.

“C’mere,” Clint murmurs and drags Pietro to him the rest of the way. The boy obeys happily, ready to do whatever it is Clint wants him to. He swears to God his heart was never beating this fast, it makes his head dizzy and his nerves tingling with anticipation.

Clint pulls him back on his lap and with one hand on the boy’s neck he guides him down for a filthy kiss. There are moans and nails scratching the skin and neither of them can tell to whom they belong.

“Why are these still on?” Clint frowns when he feels the fabric on Pietro’s thighs. He pushes the tips of his fingers just beneath the hem of his track pants, so he can start pushing it down and squeeze that boy’s fine ass. “These pants don’t do your ass justice,” Clint complains as he keeps pushing Pietro’s pants down to his thigs.

The younger boy has to help him, eventually, so they are both equally naked. Clint takes Pietro hand and sits up, stuffing pillows under his back so he can sit comfortably with Pietro on top of him. He pulls the boy inches from him and bites down on his chin with mischievous look in his eyes. “Why don’t you run real quick to the bathroom and get the condoms and lube?” he tells Pietro and  _damn it, Barton. Why do you need to sound so wrecked?_

Pietro just nods dumbly and complies. He’s back in a heartbeat, each leg on either side of Clint, looking real smug. He pushes the lube to Clint’s hand and inches closer to his face. When he’s just a breath away from him, he mutters “Wanna ride you, Barton. Make it worth my while.” Then he gives him the sweetest, most innocent kiss he can.

“As you wish,” the archer chuckles. “But don’t come complaining when you can’t sit through dinner,” he returns the kiss.

“Whatever, just make it happen,” Pietro huffs, obviously annoyed with how long it took.

“Don’t rush it, baby doll,” Clint kisses his neck sweetly. He places one hand in the middle of Pietro’s back and pushes him down, so their chests are touching. “I want to take you apart,” his words are barely audible.

Pietro swallows and stays still, completely at the archer’s mercy. He hides his face in the crook of his neck and fists his hands in the pillows next to him.

Clint continues kissing the boy along his shoulder and neck, leaving bite marks and wet trails behind in an attempt to distract the boy. He unscrews the bottle of lube and pours some on his fingers.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmurs at the same time he pushed the first finger past the tight ring of muscles.

Pietro’s breath hitches and he loses his voice. There’s just a high-pitched whine that leaves his throat and it obviously makes Clint satisfied. He slowly circles the finger, searching for Pietro’s prostate. It takes him a while to find it, but when he does, Pietro has to bite Clint’s shoulder as to not scream in the sudden pleasure.

_It will leave an ugly mark and everybody will know what we did. Good._

“You’re doing good,” Clint praises him and cups the boy’s face so he has to meet his eyes.

Pietro knows his pupils have to be blown wide, he can’t even focus on Clint’s face. His mouth falls open when another finger pushes inside, it straight out punches a groan from his lungs.

“Please,” he whines and doesn’t even know why. “Need you,” he meets Clint’s lips in a messy kiss that’s all teeth and not enough tongue.

“I promised to take good care of you, doll,” Clint reminds him and pushes Pietro’s hair out of his eyes. “You’re being so good for me right now. Taking my fingers like a good boy,” he cups his head and brushes his thumb over Pietro’s bottom lip. The boy takes it in eagerly and sucks around it, making obscene slurping noises.

“Jesus, kid,” Clint curses, feeling his own restraints wearing thin.

“More… I need more,” Pietro moans around the thumb in his mouth and thrusts his hips to meet Clint’s fingers halfway.

Clint pushes in third finger and stretches his fingers apart a little, just because he can. Pietro’s eyes flutter shut and he hides his face in the pillows next to Clint, so the other Avengers can’t hear him scream in pleasure. Clint does it again and is surprised when the boy meets his fingers halfway, fucking himself nice and deep.

The archer decides to make it good for the boy and uses his free hand to run it up his back, using his nails to scrape the sensitive skin there. The effect is instant. Pietro arches his back with a litany of curses and little cries.

“Fucking fuck me already!” he nearly sobs. “Need it, I… fuck, yes, fuck me… right there,” Pietro groans.

“Bossy, aren’t we?” Clint chuckles. He takes the condom that’s next to him and rolls it on himself. Seeing as Pietro was already out of his mind, he didn’t want him to get more frustrated.

“Come here, princess,” Clint whispers and guides Pietro up on his knees. He wraps his hand around his cock and gives it a tug; it’s painfully hard already.

He places his other hand on Pietro’s hip and slowly starts pressing the boy down, guiding him.

The blond struggles to take Clint’s cock at first, but when he finds the right angle, he can feel the hot shaft easily slide into him. It’s like coming home.

Pietro throws his head back and lets out a loud moan when he’s finally taken all of Clint’s cock inside. He’s so full that he’s sure he can taste Clint’s cock on his tongue. The stretch is just enough to let Pietro know it’s there and that it’s straining. It burns nicely in the contrast with sharp pleasure.

When Clint moves in him, he brushes that sweet spot he’s been abusing just minutes ago with his fingers and it sends Pietro’s mind to places. His mouth falls open in a silent cry and his fingers automatically dig into Clint’s shoulders, leaving red dents behind.

“Gonna fuck you nice and proper, doll,” Clint says through gritted teeth and holds the boy’s hips firmly to meet his upward thrusts.

Pietro is lost in the pleasure and for a moment he’s sure Clint managed to fuck his brains out. All he can feel is the hotness inside him, the stretch and pull and need.

When he comes down from his initial high, he places his palms on Clint’s peck for better leverage and starts riding Clint’s dick like a whore. He experiments with the pace, fucking himself on Clint’s cock and using him to his liking. He bounces up and down, chasing the pleasure.

“God, look at you. You are so lost in it, you can barely talk,” Clint scratches Pietro’s back, making the boy respond beautifully under his attention. “How does it feel, being stretched and filled so much? Do you like the burn, doll?” Clint hisses, feeling the sweat run down his neck. The boy really makes him hot.

“Feels good,” Pietro breathes out. He has hair glued to his face, sweat running down his lean torso, making all the bruises and scratches sting.

Clint touches the place where he’s disappearing into Pietro and feels their bodies moving together in a perfect, incoherent harmony. And just because he can, he pushes his index finger along with his shaft.

Pietro screams and comes on spot, sobbing from the overwhelming feeling.

“Oh god, baby,” Clint gives Pietro one especially hard thrust and hits his prostate right on, milking his orgasm out of him. “You’re such a good boy, taking all that I’m giving you,” he praises him and pushes his finger in a little deeper.

Pietro’s screams are hoarse, his voice is raspy and worn with all the crying. Clint chases his own release for a little longer, before he stills deep inside the boy and comes.

“Shit,” he curses breathlessly as the last waves of orgasm wash over him.

Pietro is a solid weight on top of him, the boy is too sore and tired to move anymore. He slowly comes back to himself minutes after, when Clint gently rolls them to their sides. The archer carefully slips out of him and gets rid of the condom. Pietro’s best guess is it’s somewhere on the floor right now, but he’s too high to care.

He curls closer to Clint and with a content sigh he rests his head just under the archer’s chin.

“You’ve done so good, Pietro,” Clint tells him in a quiet voice, so he doesn’t disrupt his lover.

There are more praises and pet names, but the boy is far away already, dozing off to the sweet lullaby of Clint’s voice.

 

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

 

“Before you sit down, I want you to know I’m not interested in your poor excuses as of why you didn’t get to the debriefing yesterday,” Steve gives him a hard look.

_Yeah, about that._

Pietro has done the whole guilt-trip thing with Steve and he’s definitely the only Avenger abusing his guilt-trip power. He rubs the back of his neck, already nervous about what it is he’s supposed to tell their Captain. He was in a hurry this morning, they kind of slept in with Clint and Jarvis woke them up on Steve’s demand. It became sort of a habit and Pietro hated the fact that it had to be Steve who kept dragging him from his archer.

Besides, there were still faint bruises in the shape of human teeth on his skin. Well, not to mention he grabbed Clint’s v-neck from the floor in the rush.

“So what were you doing instead of…,” Steve trails off, his voice disappearing to a complete silence. Pietro knows he probably just saw the bruises. They were enough of evidence.

The Captain just stares at Pietro as if he’s looking at him for the first time in his life. He shakes his head and quickly drops the issue altogether, skipping to the debriefing they were supposed to do yesterday.

Pietro tells Steve everything he needs to know. Well, save for the little detail about Bucky.

When their meeting is coming to an end, Steve walks over to the door to see Pietro out.

“So I get it that you and Clint won’t be fighting from now on?” he asks just as Pietro is about to touch the door knob.

The boy stops in his movement and turns to Steve with a sly smirk.

“Well, you guessed it, Cap,” he winks at him.

“Just… be nice to that guy, okay?” Steve looks at him with these huge blue eyes and Pietro totally gets it why Steve always guilts Tony into being a decent human being. Pietro kind of wants to roll over and surrender and all Steve had to do was give him  _that look_ .

“I will,” Pietro promises and opens the door.

He’s one leg out of it when he stops and turns to Steve.

“I was supposed to deliver a message to you,” he looks up to Steve and waits a second to see the permission to talk. “It’s from your friend. He’s back in Brooklyn.”

He leaves the door and just as he closes it, he sees the last bit of their leader. If there are tears in his eyes, Pietro doesn’t question it. If there is fear in his features, Pietro knows why. If there is hope in Steve Rogers? Well, Pietro never thought different.

He walks the corridors and ends up in the kitchen. It’s just in time for breakfast.

All the other people from their team slowly pile in. Wanda is one of them, she’s next to Vision and they talk about something that makes her laugh. There is Nat, eyeing her orange juice with suspicion, waiting for somebody she could talk to. Pietro sighs with relief and grabs his favorite cereals to begin with. Tony is nowhere to be seen, so his coffee will have to wait. Pietro refuses to brew his own cup, he likes the routine him and Tony have going on.

He sits behind the breakfast bar and watches the room lighten up under different conversations. He doesn’t miss the sound of Clint’s crutches this time. The man looks just like any other morning, but perhaps you could say he’s fucking glowing now and it couldn’t be less obvious he got laid. Well, not like he put an effort to mask the hickeys and bruises he’s sporting all over his collarbone and neck in the first place.

There’s no way Barton is getting away with the “These are combat injuries” bullshit.

He watches the man take the coffee pot and drink straight out of it.

“Gross, Barton!” Wanda throws a toast at him.

Clint just laughs and puts the coffee pot on his usual spot next to Pietro.

“Didn’t get a proper chance to say good morning to you,” he gives him a smile that makes Pietro blush.

Somehow it made the images from the previous night flow into his mind.

“Yeah, sorry about that… Captain’s orders,” he shrugs and tries to hide his embarrassment.

“By the way that t-shirt looks sexy as hell on you,” Clint half-whispers and gives the boy a not-so-subtle once-over. “You need to borrow my clothes more often,” Clint whispers just as he sits next to Pietro, so nobody else can hear him.

If Pietro was blushing before, he definitely turned scarlet now.

He felt the looks the other Avengers were giving them. Natasha already knew and she was pretty much enjoying herself and the show in front of her. Wanda had to know too, there was no way she couldn’t hear them last night with her enhanced sensitivity. Pietro thinks that’s why she was avoiding looking at him the whole morning. Point taken.

Then Tony walks in.

And he gives the two of them the wickedest grin ever.

To his credit, Tony doesn’t say a word. He just presses some buttons on the fancy coffee maker and gets two mugs ready. There is a freshly brewed coffee in front of Pietro within minutes. And so is Tony. Up close and personal, leaning over the breakfast bar.

“Just so you know, I made a new sound-proofing blueprint for your room,” he looks at them like it’s the most casual thing ever. “Not that I’m complaining, it was better than most porn I’ve ever heard… or watched, for that matter. But I’m not sure the other Avengers approved,” he takes a quick drink from his coffee and leans close to Pietro.

“By the way, I didn’t peg you for a screamer,” he laughs and fleets to find a safe spot near Natasha. “Stop by my laboratory!” he yells from the table and Pietro feels the tips of his ears burning in shame.

But Clint seems pretty amused by the whole situation and laughs quietly under his breath.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just that we probably don’t need to be subtle anymore,” he says nonchalantly.

As soon as the words leave Clint’s mouth, he wraps his arm around Pietro’s waist and presses the boy closer to him so he can kiss his temple.

Pietro wants to be angry with him, but he just melts next to the solid heat of Clint’s body.  _Yeah, screw everything. They all know anyway._ And if they don’t, this little display of affection will certainly give them something to think about for the next couple days.

_‘I’m gonna throw up,’_ he hears Wanda’s voice in his head.

He almost bursts out laughing, but for the sake of teasing her sister, he doesn’t. Instead he pretends he didn’t hear her and kisses Clint on the cheek.

_‘Gross, Pietro! I’m trying to eat!’_ she yells at him.

_‘Oh, you should know better, Wanda,’_ Pietro throws couple of mental images from the last night at her.

He can feel the horrification and utter moral shock.

_‘I hate you.’_

_‘Love you, too,’_ Pietro laughs and sends his sister the last picture, this time an innocent one he knows will calm her down.

It’s a picture of Clint, tangled in sheets, sleeping. He looks young and if it wasn’t for all the injuries he had, it would be a perfect example of a cute, domestic scene.

“What was it for?” Clint asks next to him.

Pietro quickly disconnects from his sister and turns his head to see the archer.

“I’m just happy, that’s all.”

 

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

 

They are lying on top of the Stark Tower. The party underneath them just got louder. It was a perfect opportunity to sneak out without anybody else noticing they’re missing.

It was some beneficial bullshit for media anyway.

There’s a nest of fluffy cushions and blankets and Pietro wonders if Tony set it for Clint on purpose. Either way, he’s not gonna question it.

He rests his head on Clint’s shoulder and shuffles closer to the man. His left hand is splayed over the archer’s beating heart. Pietro can barely feel the pulse from underneath the layers of his expensive suit, but it’s a gesture he grew familiar with over the time.

So they lay still on the rooftop, their suits on and the sun almost gone. It’s been about a month since they officially announced their relationship. Not to the media, to be exact, but to everybody who deserved to know the truth.

Natasha hasn’t stopped with the teasing ever since.

Steve found Bucky and even though he never gave up his location, these two were spending an awful lot of time together.

For the first time in many years, Pietro’s life felt complete.

He pecked Clint’s neck and nuzzled closer.

“You know, I never got the chance to tell you,” he pauses briefly between tiny kisses. “But I’m grateful that you got drunk that one time and that you didn’t remember a damn thing.”

“Wait, what?” Clint sits up and looks at the younger man. “When?”

“Do you remember when I was pressing you about that one time you got drunk during our workout?”

Clint slowly nods and Pietro continues.

“I was there. You were playing the piano and I asked you to play something else besides the Funeral March. So you played some ballad instead and then…” Pietro takes in a deep breath.

He really doesn’t want to make Clint mad. But the archer deserves to know as much.

“You were too drunk, so I took you to your room and you kind of made a pass at me?” Pietro bites his lip and looks up through his lashes. “You were telling me how pretty I am and that you think about me. I had no idea and it was even worse when you didn’t remember it the next day.”

“So… what you’re telling me is that it wasn’t a dream?”

“W-hat?” the blond stammers and nearly breaks his tongue while he rushes to say the word.

“I remember this. But it was too good to be true, so I thought… You know, it’s not unusual to have vivid dreams that feel real,” Clint shrugs.

He looks like it’s the most normal thing in the world, while Pietro is internally freaking out.

“You fucking remember?” he fists his hands in Clint’s shirt, dragging him closer.

The man smiles.  It’s feral.

Pietro’s grip falters a little. He suddenly feels like a prey under that intense blue stare.

“Yeah, I remember,” he says, that smile never leaving his lips. He brushes Pietro’s hair gently out of his face. It’s slow and calculated and it sends chills down Pietro’s spine.

“I remember you kneeling on the floor in front of me,” he whispers and holds Pietro’s chin up with his thumb and index finger. “You looked desperate for it. So beautiful and so perfect between my legs, waiting for whatever it is I was going to give you,” he murmurs into Pietro’s ear and bites down.

He pushes the boy onto his back and holds his wrists over his head in one hand. He mouths along Pietro’s pulse point, tightening his grip just the tiniest bit to stop the boy from squirming.

“What do you say I make it up to you now, doll?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna miss this story :'3 but what do you guys think?  
> I was also thinking about adding a Part 2, that would be about Steve finding Bucky, but I'm not really sure...
> 
> And I forgot to mention this earlier, but I'd like to thank all of you, who left kudos, bookmarked this story and left sweet and encouraging comments on this work. You kept me going and I wouldn't be able to finnish this, if I didn't know that many of you actually enjoyed my writing. So thank you, this is for you, my dear munchkinds!

**Author's Note:**

> The song that Clint sang to Pietro was All the Nights by Swedish band H.E.A.T., just in case someone wants to hear that song for themselves (I truly recommend it!).
> 
> I'd like to thank all of those who supported me while I was writing this story. My big thanks goes to people who left kudos and comments on my previous works as well, it keeps me going, guys <3
> 
> You can talk to me on my [tumblr](http://olicatqueen.tumblr.com/), if you feel like it :)


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